What a Pain!
by Laughing Librarian
Summary: Mike Stoker makes a new friend who turns out to be something much more. No, the characters of E! don't belong to me and I don't make any money from my stories...I just wish they did and I could.
1. Chapter 1

**What a Pain! – Chapter One.**

Mike Stoker opened his gritty eyes, coughed, and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. Raising his arm to his eyes was difficult. Still detecting the scent of smoke on his body and thinking about a shower, he sighed as deeply as he could, and recalled what happened the night before. It certainly hadn't been what he thought would happen on one of his days off, but he had always been a sucker for a hard luck case._ "How do I ge__t myself into stuff like this?"_ he thought to himself. _"I guess I don't have the resolve I used to have. Ah well, stranger things have happened." _His head still ached a little and he stretched his muscular arms and long legs. Then he quickly noticed the Pain. The Pain crept slowly from his feet, up his legs and settled on his chest. He yawned, coughed again, and decided he needed to get up and out of bed. Maybe then the Pain would depart. Gingerly, he put a hand on his chest, expecting the Pain to protest his movement.

"Move it, Pain," Mike growled. He slid to a sitting position, raked his hands through his hair, then attempted to dislodge a skinny gray and white tabby cat from atop his chest. The cat wasn't in the least bit interested in leaving his warm spot on Stoker's chest. Mike gave the cat a gentle shove. "Go on, get up. We need, uh, I mean, **I** need breakfast. **You** need to go out."

The Pain, originally christened "Sir Pain-in-the-Butt", was a stray cat Mike started to feed a few weeks ago and who was now the unofficial newest member of the Stoker household. Pain joined Larry, Moe and Curly, the three goldfish in a tank in the kitchen, plus Lucy and Ethel, a pair of frogs that lived in the backyard garden. Mike loved pets, but knew that with his schedule, he shouldn't keep anything that needed walking or couldn't go a day without attention. Sir Pain showed up a few weeks ago and had spent a day or two sitting on the fence, watching as Mike puttered around in the backyard. The cat's curiosity won out and he finally jumped off and decided to make friends. Mike was pulling weeds in his small vegetable patch when the cat walked up and began purring and rubbing against Mike's legs.

"What? Where in the world did you come from?" he asked the cat. Mike smiled, sat back on his heels, and reached out his hand. The cat sniffed and must have decided Mike was one of the good guys, as he promptly plopped himself down and rolled over for a belly scratch.

Mike hadn't had a cat since he lived with his folks and then, that cat had been a furry terror! "Clawed" ruled the Stoker house with a menacing paw, yet had Mike's mother completed taken in. She'd chat to Clawed in baby talk and tell him what a good boy he was, even though the nasty thing had just bitten her ankle...again. Mike's mom was smitten and nothing Clawed did was wrong. From that experience, Mike had decided that cats were for people with a much higher level of tolerance than he. Until, that is, Sir Pain-in-the-butt arrived.

Mike liked to be alone in his garden to think as he worked. It was soothing and distracting at the same time and never failed to calm his sometimes frazzled nerves. He wasn't in the habit of chatting while he worked, but somehow the cat's presence brought the words out that Mike had been holding inside. "Would you believe what happened at work today, Cat?" Mike said, and continued to tell the cat all about his shift. True to cat form, it never told Mike what he should have done or said, and neither did it accuse Mike of mistakes or criticize his work. It was nice to be able to talk out loud and not have to worry about someone jumping in to "help" when help was not asked for.

The cat did have a nasty habit of digging in the garden and occasionally it brought back a partially eaten mouse as a gift, but by and large, he was a pretty good cat. Mike was content letting the cat stay in the backyard and for awhile, the cat seemed fine with that arrangement as well. It wasn't long before Mike started looking for the cat each time he came out to the garden and on more than one occasion, fell asleep in the hammock with a purring cat resting on his legs. Mike did not ask for a cat. He was pretty sure he didn't want a cat and didn't think he could manage a cat on his schedule, but the more time he spent talking to his furry friend, the more he became attached. Soon enough, Mike began setting out leftovers and a saucer of milk before he left for work each shift, and reluctantly admitted he hoped the cat would still be there when he returned. The cat never yowled or fought with neighbor cats or "left his mark" anywhere he shouldn't, which was definitely something Mike could appreciate.

Oddly, Mike found himself thinking about the cat during the day when things were quiet. He wondered what the cat did while Mike was gone and if it was safe. When thoughts of the cat invaded his brain, Mike would smile and shake his head, trying to shoo them away. He was doomed to become a "cat-guy" and he knew it.

Chet and Marco both had typical "macho" dogs. Chet had a big, drooly, Lab and Marco had a German Shepherd. Cap had daughters who insisted on a cute dog, and he had reluctantly gotten them a teacup poodle named "Buttons". Cap didn't speak much of Buttons; he was far too embarrassed by the yappy little fluffball. Roy's wife Joanne liked dogs, but since she would be the one to take care of it most often, she protested the addition of one. She had enough work with the kids, the house, and "Nutty" the gerbil. She had no desire to add a dog to the mix. Johnny had horses and had always wanted a dog, but hadn't actually gotten around to getting one yet, so that left Mike, the big, strong, engineer, with a tough-guy image to maintain, and here he had adopted a scrawny cat. Nope, he wasn't about to tell anyone how attached he had gotten to the little thing, or that the reason he left as soon as shift was over was because he missed it. Totally anti-macho.

Coughing lightly again, Mike sat up in bed and rolled Sir Pain onto the mattress. Pain flopped over and waited for a belly scratch, rather than get off the bed like Mike wanted him to. "What a mush you are," Mike growled fondly. "Eh, I guess after last night, you pretty much earned your keep, haven't you."

He eased his legs off the side of the bed and sat there for minute. He actually did feel a little light-headed yet and wasn't sure he'd remain upright for second. Once the feeling passed, he needed to try standing, lest he not get into the kitchen for the desperately needed coffee. He held onto the edge of the dresser for just a moment to steady himself. Pain jumped off the bed and sat on the floor, gazing up at the human he decided belonged to him.

Mike smiled down at the cat and said, "Alright...c'mon, you can stay inside for now. I imagine you're hungry." He walked slowly down the hall and into the kitchen, then stopped when he saw his clothes by the back door, shed late last night when he had stumbled back into the house. He could still detect the scent of smoke on the clothes and on himself. "Hmm...shower or coffee first?" He placed a little saucer on the counter and filled it with milk. When he bent over to put it on the floor, his world tilted a little and he grabbed the counter top to keep from falling over. "Man, I musta' banged my head harder than I thought!" he mumbled. "I better take a shower first; that'll wake me up."

The cat lapped the milk up while Mike teetered off to the bathroom. After a cool, soapy, refreshing shower, Mike wrapped a towel around his trim waist and stood in front of the mirror, examining the lump that he now sported on the side of his head. It was turning blue and red and still quite tender to the touch. Stoker winced when he brushed his fingers lightly over the lump, and tried in vain to coax his hair into hiding it. "This better be gone by the time you're back on shift, or Cap'll send your butt to Rampart," Mike told the Stoker-in-the-mirror. The cat, having finished his milk, had entered the bathroom and was entwining himself around Mike's ankles, purring and making his signature sounds. Not quite a mew or a chirp; Mike called it "mewping."

Mike's doorbell chimed and he quickly tossed on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. A police officer stood there with a clipboard in his hands. "Hi, Mike. How're you feelin' this morning?" he asked.

"Not bad, Frank," Mike told him, "a little rough, I guess. I'll be alright. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I'd like to see if you can fill us in a little more on what happened last night," Frank asked him. "There's still a few missing pieces."


	2. Chapter 2

**What a Pain! – Chapter Two**

"Well, come in, Frank. I just got up a little bit ago; sit down and I'll make some coffee," Mike told the policeman.

"Thanks, Mike. Coffee sounds pretty great right about now." Frank yawned and sat down in the brown tweed recliner facing the kitchen area. He looked down at the floor and noticed Sir Pain-in-the-butt sitting near his feet. Frank reached down to pet the little cat. "Nice little cat you have here, Mike. What's his name?"

There was no response from the kitchen. "Mike?" Frank waited a few seconds then called out again. "Mike? Need a hand in there?" He got up and walked into the kitchen, where he found Mike standing near the sink, holding tightly to the edge of the counter. Mike's head hung down; his eyes closed.

Frank came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Mike? You okay? What's goin' on, pal?"

Mike shook his head, keeping his eyes shut tightly. "Just...gimme a sec, Frank. I just felt a little dizzy...I'm okay."

"Look, how about you go sit down and I'll make the coffee, huh? You look kinda' pale there. Want me to call a squad?"

"No...no squad, I"ll be fine. I haven't eaten anything since yesterday's breakfast. I'm sure that's it. I _will_ let you make the coffee, though," Mike allowed.

"Yeah, well, if lack of food _is_ the problem, then I'm gonna make you some toast or something, too. Here, I'll help you to the chair."

Mike shook his head and waved off the police officer's assistance. "I'm okay, Frank, I can do it. I just got a little light-headed." He stood up straighter and unclenched his eyes and smiled weakly. "See? All better. The percolator is on the stove and the coffee's in the fridge. Mugs are to the left of the sink," he told the officer as he made his way to the living room.

"Yeah, okay. You just go sit down." Frank started the coffee and quickly found bread and butter for toast. He noticed the bluish lump peeking from beneath Mike's hair and doubted that Mike's dizziness was really the fault of not eating. Still, he thought a little sustenance wouldn't hurt either way. He kept glancing into the living room, but saw that Mike was just sitting in the chair, petting the little gray cat.

Once the toast was done, he brought it in. "Here, eat something. The coffee'll be done in a little bit. Feeling better?"

"Thanks, Frank. Yeah, I'm feeling better; sorry about that."

"Hey, don't apologize, I'm just glad you didn't fall over or something." The officer sat down on the sofa. "Now, you think you can tell me what happened last night?"

Stoker wiped a few toast crumbs from his mouth and nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Would you believe it kind of involves this little guy here?" He pointed to the cat, who was now on the floor, licking butter from a corner of toast Mike had given him.

"The cat?" Frank asked. "I don't recall hearing this. Let me get the coffee and we'll get started."

Frank yelled from the kitchen, "How do you want your java?"

"A little milk and sugar," Mike called back, then winced as his head resented the noise.

Frank returned with two mugs of steaming coffee and handed one to Mike. He sat back down and got out his clipboard and pen. "Ready?" he asked.

"Well," Mike said, "maybe I should begin a little while before the whole thing started." He pointed down to the cat. "Sir-pain-in-the-butt here was with me in the backyard. I had a couple of trees to plant, so I'd been working there since, oh, around four o'clock."

Pain jumped into Mike's lap and placed his front paws on his chest and gave a little lick to Mike's chin. Mike snickered and gently batted his buddy away. "Uh, anyway, I had finished planting the trees and pulling weeds in the garden, so I got some lemonade and was going to relax in the hammock for a bit. Ol' Pain, he likes to be right next to me, but this time, he kept pacing around the hammock and wouldn't jump up. Every time I closed my eyes, he'd bite at my fingers and do this chirpy-meow thing he does."

"So that's unusual for the cat?" Frank asked.

"Well, yeah... I thought it was. I mean, he's only been around for a little over a month, but he's kinda' made this his home. He's usually pretty laid back and I thought it was kind of odd," Mike said, looking at the cat.

Frank was writing and trying to keep up with Mike's take on things. "Go on," he told the tired fireman, "then what did you do?"

"Well, for awhile, I tried to ignore him. I really just wanted to relax and I thought he was getting annoying, but he just wouldn't quit." Mike recalled how Pain had kept nipping at his fingers and pacing nervously. "I finally got up 'cause I was going to put him outside the gate. I guess that's when I saw the smoke."

"About what time was that, Mike?"

Mike thought a bit, "Oh, I suppose around seven-thirty. Every time I'd toss the cat out, he'd jump back in and start pacing and meowing. He just wouldn't let me ignore him. Pretty soon he was full-out yowling. He'd never done that before, ever."

He continued, "He kept trying to get me to follow him down the sidewalk."

"Why did you think that, Mike?"

The engineer chuckled, "I don't know...maybe I watched too many episodes of 'Lassie'? He just kept going a few feet in front of me and looking back, then he'd yowl. Every time I'd try to go to him, he'd do it again. Before I knew it, we were halfway down the block." He laughed a bit, then squinted when he felt another wave of dizziness.

At the pause in conversation, Frank looked up from his clipboard. "Mike? You dizzy again?"

Mike nodded slightly. "Man, this is getting old. Don't worry, Frank, I'll be fine with some rest."

"You want to continue? You're not feeling sick are you?"

"No, no, I'm okay. Where was I?"

"The cat led you up the block."

"Oh, right. So, anyway, when I looked up again, I saw the smoke was coming from this old house that Mrs. Gavigan used to live in. She died about eight years ago, and nobody lives there anymore. There wasn't a huge amount of smoke yet, that I could see, so I thought I'd check it out."

"So, you went in the house?" Frank inquired.

"Well, I tried to go in the front door, but, the cat here, he ran around to the back and kept that yowling thing up until I followed him. Back there, I could see smoke coming from the upstairs window."

"Why didn't you call the fire department then?"

"I heard these noises coming from inside and I thought there might be people trapped. I figured I'd try to get them out first. I mean, by the time the fire department got there, that old place could have gone up like a tinderbox."

"Did you have any help?"

"No, not really. I saw Jerry and Paul running up, so I yelled at them to call the fire department."

"Who's Jerry and Paul?"

"Jerry Shears. He lives two doors down from me and three from the old house. Paul's his son"

"I see. What did you do then?"

"Well, I kicked in the back door. I pulled my t-shirt over my mouth and went inside. I wasn't going to go very far, I just wanted to see if anyone was in there; maybe I could get them out."

"Did it sound like people were in there?"

"Yes, I thought it did. The bottom level was pretty clear yet; not much smoke. I went through the kitchen and into the living room, but I didn't see anyone. I couldn't hear any sirens yet, so I thought I'd look upstairs." Mike frowned as he tried to recall some details.

"Were there people upstairs?"

Mike continued, "Well, I was taking it slow, because the stairs were pretty rickety. I heard a couple of loud "pops" from upstairs and all of a sudden two guys came running down the steps at me. I'm sure they weren't expecting to see me, and they shoved me out of their way." Mike paused for second, "I guess that's when I fell down the steps."

"Were you hurt?"

"Um, yes, a little. I whacked my head on the banister and wrenched my left shoulder."

"Did you see what they looked like or where they went?"

"No. I was knocked a little loopy, I guess. I was on the floor and I...couldn't get up. That's when this guy right here came in to get me."

Frank looked up in surprise. "The cat? The cat came in to get you?"

"Yeah, he really did. Kept up that yowling thing and he was biting my fingers and nose."

"Were you out of the house when the fire department showed up?"

"Um, yes, I got out by myself eventually, but we went out the back door and they busted in through the front."

"I see." Frank kept writing, "Did they know you had been in there?"

"Yes, I walked around front and spoke with Captain Stone and told him there were two people inside who had escaped."

"Did he want you to stay? Did you tell him you were injured?"

Mike sighed, "No, I didn't say anything about it. I didn't feel too bad then. I just found my cat and took him back home with me."

"You, uh, didn't tell the captain about the cat showing you the fire or getting you out?"

"Frank, seriously, would you have told anyone that?" Mike asked with a smile.

Frank smiled back, "No, probably not. Is that everything you can recall, Mike?"

"I think so. If I remember anything else, I'll call you. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, I think that'll do for now. I appreciate your help. Are you sure you're okay?" Frank inquired.

"I'm okay. I'm going to go take a couple aspirin and lay down for awhile. Besides, I've got my little rescue-cat here. We'll be fine."

Frank and Mike stood to shake hands goodbye and Mike teetered slightly again, which didn't go unnoticed. Mike smiled shyly and walked his friend to the door. The policeman wasn't keen on leaving the engineer alone and thought perhaps a call to the man's captain might be in order.


	3. Chapter 3

What a Pain!—Chapter Three

Mike closed his front door and sighed. "Pain, that was the biggest acting job I've ever done. My shoulder is killing me, my head is killing me, and I wanna barf. I feel like dirt."

Pain let out a sad little "meep" and Mike gave an exhausted smile, "Yeah, c'mon buddy. I'm going to go lie down." As soon as his hand left the doorknob, Mike felt his world tilt. He managed to keep from falling by leaning against the door. "Okay, I'm not doing so good right now, Pain. I'm going to take a couple aspirin and maybe give Roy or John a call." Pain only "mrreeped" in response.

Mike's vision wavered as he walked with slow, deliberate steps to the kitchen. The kitchen was a step up from the living room and he concentrated on it, making every effort not to fall. He was becoming increasingly concerned with the way everything was spinning; it was making his stomach churn. "Man, I need to lie down. Being upright is the pits!" He made his way to the cabinet and took down the aspirin bottle. He removed two pills and gripped them in his fist as he reached for a glass. Sir Pain watched him with glinty green eyes and followed his favorite human through the kitchen.

As Mike turned toward the sink, he groaned loudly. Leaning over, he lost his stomach contents, little though there was. "Uuuuhhhh..." Mike moaned, "I gotta call Roy."

Keeping his hands on the counter top, he slowly went over to the phone. His dizziness was getting worse and the vomiting hadn't helped. Thankfully, he had the numbers for all the guys at 51 posted by the phone. He doubted he could have concentrated long enough to look them up. He leaned heavily on the wall as he dialed Roy's number. Two…three…four rings…finally Joanne picked up.

"Hello, DeSoto residence," Mike heard Joanne's lovely voice say.

"Uh…Jo? This is, um," Mike swallowed hard and licked his lips, willing away the urge to vomit, "it's Mike…Stoker."

Joanne could tell something was wrong. "Mike? Are you okay?"

"Um, is Roy there? I, uh, need to talk to him."

"I'm so sorry, Mike, he's not. He's picking Johnny up at the repair shop. His Rover needed new tires today. Can I have him call you when he gets back?" Joanne asked tentatively.

There was no reply at first, and Joanne began to panic a little inside. "Mike? Are you there?"

"Um, yeah, I'm here. It's no big deal, Jo, just...have him call me when he gets back." His voice was almost a whisper by now, and alarm bells were clanging in Joanne's brain.

"Mike, do you need help? You sound a little weak; are you sick?"

"I…I think I am, Jo. I was okay last night, but...it's been getting worse since I got up," he told her.

"Mike, does Roy have a key to your place?"

"No. I have one... under the big rock... by my back gate…why?"

"You go sit down, Mike, and I'll have Roy and John go over there when they get back. They'll let themselves in. Would that be okay?" she asked.

"Uh…yeah." Another long pause, and then, "Tha' sounds good. Thans, Jo."

Joanne really didn't want Mike to hang up; something told her to keep him talking. "Mike, did you hurt yourself?"

"It…it's jus' a bump, Joanne, I'm okay. I jus' feel a little... sick to my stomach," Mike admitted. "I... had…an acciden las nigh…"

Joanne could hear the sudden slurring of Mike's voice. "Oh, Mike, can I call a squad for you? Your voice sounds a little strange."

It took a bit for Joanne's words to sink in, and then Mike said, "No thans, Jo. Jus'... have Roy come over. I'm... gonna go si dow...n."

Hearing how Mike's voice was changing in just the time they had chatted on the phone, Joanne knew that hanging up was not the best thing right now, but she really needed to call someone to help him. Oh how she wished Roy and John would come back! "Mike, I'm going to call Marco or Chet. I don't think you should be alone. I'll tell them where the key is, okay?"

"Yeah…okay. Thass good...thans, Jo." Before Joanne could say anything else, she heard the click of Mike hanging up. Quickly, she found Marco's phone number.

"¡Hola! López de residencia," Marco answered.

"Marco? It's Joanne DeSoto," she nearly wailed, "Can you drive over to Mike Stoker's house? He needs help!"

"Jo? Sure, I can go over to Mike's. What's going on?"

"Oh, Marco, he called for Roy, but Roy and Johnny aren't here. He sounded weak, and kind of sleepy; his words were slurring, too! He said he had an accident last night, but he didn't say what sort. I tried to keep him talking for as long as I could, but he said he was going to go lie down, and then he hung up! I'm worried, Marco! He said there's a key under the big rock by his back gate. Can you go there now?" Joanne begged.

"Sure, Jo, I'm leaving right now. Tell Roy and Johnny to get there as soon as they can and I'll meet them there! Thanks, Joanne!" Marco stuffed his feet into his sneakers and shouted to his mama that he was leaving. As he was running to his car, Chet pulled up.

"Hey, Marco! I'm going to the ballgame at the pavilion. Wanna go with?" Chet called to him.

"We need to go to Mike's- NOW!" Marco yelled as he dove into Chet's van.

"Uh, okay, what's the occasion? The game starts in twenty minutes." Chet asked, bewildered.

"I'll tell you on the way- GO!" Chet acquiesced and peeled out of the driveway.

The two lineman raced to Stoker's, as Roy and Johnny returned to the DeSoto's house. Joanne had gotten Roy's extra medical bag from the hall closet and as soon as Jo saw them pull in, she ran out the front door. She stuffed the bag into Roy's arms and cried, "Roy! Get back in the car and go to Mike Stoker's place! Oh, Roy, I think he's very sick!"

Roy was stunned to see his wife so distraught, but didn't question what she told him. He and Johnny did as they were told and sped off to Mike's.

Meanwhile, Mike slowly made his way to the sink for a glass of water. His mouth still tasted vaguely of vomit and it was making him feel even more nauseous. He held the glass, staring at it for a minute, trying to remember what he was supposed to do with it. He wanted to sit down in the living room, but the world kept spinning and swaying and making his stomach churn. Sir Pain mewed plaintively; he knew his human was in trouble. Mike stumbled toward the living room, tripped over the step and crashed onto the floor, cutting his hand with the now shattered glass. He sat up, cradling his bleeding hand and felt sick again. "Ohhhh," he moaned, "I can't puke here!" He crawled on his hands and knees toward the bathroom, leaving a trail of blood along the way. He leaned over the side of the bathtub and heaved again. This action proved to be too much for the engineer, and he passed out on the floor.

Mike's scrawny, four-legged nurse had followed him into the bathroom. Sir Pain knew that his knew master needed help, and he sat there by his side, licking his friend's face and nipping at his nose, trying to wake him. His ears perked up at the sound of car doors slamming and he ran to the front windows. He placed his paws on the windowsill and nosed the drapes open to peer out.

Since Roy lived closer to Mike than Marco did, he and Johnny arrived first, but Marco and Chet pulled in swiftly after. The four of them looked at each other for a second, wondering how they all managed to show up at the same time. "Mike told Joanne his key is under the big rock by the back gate," Marco said. The guys ran to the gate, looked down at the landscaping in front of the entrance and noticed...several big rocks! There was not one rock that seemed obviously bigger than the others. Each man immediately busied himself turning over all the rocks, searching for the key.

Sir Pain frantically ran his paws up and down on the window, meowing as loudly as he could, trying to get the attention of all the men he saw digging around in the dirt. Finally, Chet raised his fist in victory and shouted, "I found it!" In his hand was a small plastic case with a keyring bearing two keys. Stoker's friends ran to the front door with Chet clutching the keys like they were solid gold. Johnny noticed the little cat crying at the window.

"When did Stoker get a cat?" he wondered out loud.

"A cat? Who cares when he got a cat? We gotta get inside!" Marco snarled.

In a matter of seconds, Chet had the door opened and all four firemen rushed inside.

"Stoker?!" Roy yelled, followed by Marco, Chet and Johnny, calling, "Mike! You okay?"

The cat ran up to Johnny and yowled. Johnny ignored the fuzzy alarm system and he and Chet ran to the kitchen, while Roy and Marco checked the garage and the backyard. Sir Pain jumped to the counter top and from there made a flying leap to Johnny's shoulder, yowling in the startled paramedic's ear.

"Yaaaaaah!" Johnny flung around in a tight circle, trying to dislodge the cat. Sir Pain jumped down and ran down the hall, stopping every few feet to yowl again. "That cat is crazy; what the heck is he doing?" But, being a little more "in tune" with animals than the average firefighter, Johnny followed the cat down the hall, checking for Mike in the rooms as he went. As he looked down, he noticed the bright red spots in the carpeting. He touched the spots and found they were wet—blood! Johnny peered around the bathroom door. "Stoker!" He yelled, "I found him! He's in the bathroom!"

Marco grabbed the hall phone and called for a squad and ambulance. Roy came in to help Johnny with Mike.

"Mike? Can you hear me?" Johnny asked. "Mike! Open your eyes!"

Mike's groaned slightly. "Mike?" Johnny asked again, "Can you open your eyes?" Mike blinked a few times and his lips moved slightly, but no sound was made.

Roy took Mike's vitals and reported, "Johnny, BP's 160/110, pulse is 55, respirations 22. Contusion on the left side of his head. He's vomited and it looks like he's cut his palm pretty badly, too." They bandaged the hand wound and waited for the squad to arrive.

Johnny wrote it all down and looked on in amazement as Sir Pain-in-the-butt squeezed in between the paramedics and began licking Mike's hand. Mike's eyes fluttered open again. "Pain..." he said, faintly.

"I know it hurts, Mike, it'll be okay. A squad's on the way," Roy told him.

"Noooo," Mike whispered. "Pain...good kitty." Then he blacked out again.

The men looked at each other in confusion. Suddenly, Captain Stanley burst into the hall, a wild look on his face. "What's going on? Is Mike okay?"

"Uh, he's got a head injury, Cap," Roy told him. "An ambulance is on the way. How did _you_ know something was wrong?"

Sirens could be heard approaching as Hank explained how Officer Frank Belton had called him at his house, voicing his suspicions about Mike's injury. Cap had planned to just drive over and check on his engineer, but became alarmed when he saw the rest of his crew already there. Soon the rescue vehicles arrived, and the other paramedic team rushed Stoker off to Rampart.

Chet glanced around at his crew mates. "Anybody know what happened to him?"

"I do now," said Cap, "and you're not going to believe the story."


	4. Chapter 4

**What a Pain! Chapter Four **

"How about we all get over to Rampart and I'll tell you on the way?" Cap told his men.

Agreeing, Cap, Roy and Johnny jumped in Chet's van with Marco. As they drove, Cap told them all what Officer Belton said over the phone. When the story of how the cat had led Mike to the burning house, and then had rescued him after his fall down the stairs as well, was finished, the men of 51 were astounded. They'd all _heard_ of animals that rescued people, but had never actually known anyone it happened to. Without mentioning it to the others, each man was moved deeply by the cat's loyalty and vowed to take care of Stoker's feline hero for as long as need be.

The VW Microbus careened down the Rampart drive, and Chet parked it as close to the ER as he could. Once there, it was like a pack of wild (albeit handsome) dogs descended on the ER as the five remaining members of Station 51 burst through the doors, arriving just minutes after the ambulance bearing Mike Stoker. Roy and Johnny ran immediately to the base station.

"Carol!" Johnny gasped, "Squad 10 just brought in Mike Stoker. Which room is he in?"

"I believe he's in Treatment three with Dr. Early, John," Carol answered calmly.

Johnny whirled around and went back to the rest of the crew, with Roy hot on his heels. The rest of the crew was waiting in the lobby; Chet was wringing his hands, Marco was staring out the window and Cap was pacing like a caged animal. "He's in Three with Dr. Early. Roy, let's go in; guys, we'll let you know as soon as we know anything."

Chet, Marco and Cap nodded solemnly and watched Roy and Johnny disappear into Treatment Three. Mike lay there on the table, still immobilized with the backboard and collar, with an IV running and an oxygen mask on his face. Dr. Early flicked the light across Mike's eyes. Although it wasn't loud, they could hear Mike moaning piteously. "Pupils are equal and reactive, but sluggish," he reported to Dixie. "Pressure's down a bit at 148/108, pulse is 68, respirations, 20. His left shoulder is pretty bruised; I don't think it's dislocated though. Probably just banged it up. Oh, and can you ask Kel to come in here? I'd like him to suture this hand wound."

"Right away, Joe," Dixie responded and stepped out to find Dr. Brackett.

Dr. Brackett entered and before he began suturing the hand wound, Early had him listen to Mike's lungs. "Do you hear some rattles in there too, Kel?" Dr. Early asked.

"Hmm, yes , a little," Brackett agreed. Knowing the engineer normally stayed by the engine during fires, he turned to the paramedics of 51 and asked, "Do you know if Mike was in a fire recently? His lungs sound like he's had some smoke inhalation that maybe wasn't treated."

Roy and John both frowned, and Roy spoke. "Well, a police officer told Cap that Mike had tried to rescue some people from a burning house near _his_ home, but that the victims had shoved Mike down the stairs. We weren't on duty though, so we don't know how long he was in the house. We only know that he was knocked for a loop for awhile before he got out. He called my wife this morning looking for me, but only told her that he'd had an accident last night. She's the one who had us go check on him. She said his speech became slurred and he was acting pretty confused. I'm afraid Mike's the only one with all the particulars." Roy became quiet. "Do you think he's going to be okay?"

"Well, he's got a badly bruised shoulder, a deep laceration on his palm and some lung congestion, but we're most concerned about this contusion on his head here, and the darkening around his eyes," he told them, pointing to the large lump on the side of Mike's head. "He's only been lucid about 25% of the time; mostly just fading in and out. I suspect a subdural hematoma, in which case, we may have to surgically reduce the pressure in his brain. X-ray will be here in few minutes and hopefully that will tell us more."

Dr. Early then closely examined Mike's fingers and nose. "Hmmm, this is odd, too," he said. "Kel, take a look at these tiny punctures on his fingers and nose here. Very unusual." He looked up at Johnny and Roy, who were standing off to the side. "Do either of you know how _these _happened?" he asked.

At first, they appeared as mystified as the doctors were, and then Johnny exclaimed, "That cat! I bet those came from that crazy cat Mike has. Do you know he went right between Roy and I and started licking Mike's hand while we were treating him? Mike even responded to the cat doin' that. Darnedest thing I've ever seen a cat do. Nutty feline."

"These are cat bites? Well, they're not bleeding; they don't appear to have broken the skin at all; just made little red pock marks. Interesting..." Dr. Brackett stated.

"That's not half of it!" Johnny spouted, "Cap said the cop said that Mike said the cat got him out of the fire by doing that!"

"Wait," Dr. Early said, putting a hand up, "the cop said the cat said that...what?"

Roy came to the rescue, "Mike told the police officer that the cat had bitten his fingers to get him moving again after Mike fell down the stairs."

"Ah, gotcha. Okay, well, I'm not going to worry about those marks then," Early said, slightly amused.

Roy and Johnny each stepped up to the exam table and held Stoker's hands for reassurance. Mike's eyes opened but didn't appear to register anything. Johnny gently asked, "Mike? Can you hear me, buddy?" Mike only blinked and his lips moved almost imperceptibly. His friends could hear Mike trying to say something, but it was so weak, they couldn't understand until Johnny leaned over to be as close as he could. After a second or two, Johnny stood back up and told them, "he said, 'pain...good cat.' What do ya' think that means?"

"I don't know about you," Roy said quietly, "but I think he heard you making fun of his cat."

Johnny would have become indignant, but the x-ray tech entered Treatment Three at that moment.

"Marcus, I want a skull series, lateral c-spine and left shoulder. This man may have a subdural hematoma as well, so be extra gentle and I want the films faster than ever."

"Yes sir; I'll be done in just a few minutes," Marcus told him.

The two doctors, the paramedics and the one remaining nurse filed out of the room to give Marcus time to do his work.

Cap approached the doctors as they exited the treatment room. "Dr. Early, Dr. Brackett, how's my engineer doing?"

"Captain Stanley," Dr. Early addressed him, "the x-rays will show us more in just a little while, but I'll tell you I suspect a subdural hematoma."

Noticing the wondering look on the Captain's face, he added, "That means a blood clot has formed between the skull and the brain, but not in the brain itself. Now, if it is relatively minor, clots sometimes warrant nothing more than blood thinners and monitoring. However, Mike presents symptoms of a possibly bigger clot, since he is still wavering in his consciousness levels. He's also vomited, both at home and in the ambulance. His blood pressure appears to be going back down, which is good, but it's still too high to be considered safe. He's quite pale yet and I'm fairly certain he's still confused and dizzy. If it _is _a larger clot, we may have to surgically reduce the pressure in his brain. I do have an OR on standby, just in case. If an operation is warranted, I'll be doing it myself with Dr. Brackett attending. Once we get the films back, we'll be able to determine our next steps. But, ah, if Mr. Stoker has any family, you may want to give them a call."

That last sentence bothered Captain Stanley more than he ever thought it would. Somehow, even though he knew it was precaution, asking for a patient's family to be notified always made things seem much more dire.

"I understand, thank you Dr. Early. My men and I will be in the waiting area. Please update us as soon as you can."

Marcus backed his machine out of the treatment room and the doctors entered it once more; John and Roy following them in. Cap told his men what the good doctor said and then went to make two phone calls. Mike had a sister in Oregon, and his mom, although in failing health, lived not too far away in Long Beach. He would call them both and try to reassure them that Mike would be fine.

Cap reflected on how many times he'd had to make calls such as this for his men. Roy's wife would certainly know her way to Rampart blindfolded by now and if John Gage had had any next of kin nearby, their numbers would have been committed to memory years ago. But Stoker? Oh, he'd had his share of minor injuries and smoke inhalation, and once he was struck by debris from an explosion which knocked him off his feet, but never anything this serious. One of the benefits of being an engineer was that you rarely had to actually enter a burning structure. Well, it seems you can take the engineer out of the fire, but you can't take the fire out of the engineer. Mike had willingly risked his life to save two people he didn't know and was now suffering the consequences.

Back in the waiting area, Marco and Chet were silent, and John and Roy came back to join them. The two linemen looked up at the paramedics. "Roy?" Chet asked, "How's he doing?"

"He's hanging in there, Chet. Dr. Early should be getting the x-rays back soon. Mike's drifting in and out. I think it's going to be a long night, so I'm going to go call Joanne and let her know what's happening. I'll bet she's about frantic by now."

Marco cleared his throat and said quietly, "Roy... Jo probably saved Mike's life."

"Yeah..." Roy said thoughtfully with a slight smile, "yeah, she probably did."

"Yep, her and that cat," Chet said, wistfully. "Who would have thought a cat would do that?"

"Hey, speaking of the little 'paw-a-medic'," Johnny punned, "'spose somebody ought to go look in on him tonight? 'Cause...I'll do it if nobody else wants to."

"Sure, Johnny, you can do it tonight," Marco told him. "We can take turns taking care of him until Mike comes home. Wish Mike could tell us what the cat's name is, though."

"Yeah," Johnny said, "All he's said so far, is 'pain' and 'good cat'."


	5. Chapter 5

**What a Pain! - Chapter Five**

As he slapped the x-rays of Mike's skull onto the light box, Dr Early consulted with Dr. Brackett. "Damn, just what I suspected, Kel. Looks like a fair-sized hematoma. Let's get him up to surgery right now."

Dr. Brackett nodded his agreement. "I'll get up there and start scrubbing up. I'll get them ready for surgery in 10 minutes."

"Great. Dixie? Could you ask Roy and John to come back in here, please?" Dr. Early knew the men of Station 51 would all be there and worried about Mike, but he wanted to give the rundown on Stoker's condition to the two who could explain it best to their friends.

Dixie left and walked quickly to the waiting area where she found Mike Stoker's worried crew. As if on strings, their heads all looked up at the same time. Five pairs of eyes were wide with concern.

"Fellas, Mike is going to have to have surgery in just a few minutes. Roy, Johnny, could you come with me, please?"

"Uh, sure, Dix." Johnny said. "Guys, we'll be right back." The two paramedics walked back into Treatment Three to find Dr. Early getting Mike ready to be moved to the surgical floor.

"John, Roy, I'm sure you know that this is a delicate procedure, but unfortunately, it is necessary. Mike's hematoma is of a size that can't be treated with blood thinners. The pressure has to be reduced surgically. We'll shave off this portion of his hair," he said, pointing to the left side of Mike's head, just behind his ear. "then I'll make a small incision and insert a drainage tube to release the collected blood. Once we get a look at how much blood there is, we'll know if it's an acute or sub-acute hematoma. We're hoping it's a sub-acute, then chances are much better for a complete recovery. Kel went up to get things ready and we'll be going up in just a few minutes. Do you know if Captain Stanley called Mike's next-of-kin?"

Roy, still getting used to the idea of Mike needing brain surgery, replied quietly, "Yeah, he did. Mike's mom can't drive, but his sister is flying in from Oregon on the red-eye. She'll pick up his mom early tomorrow morning and be here as soon as she can."

"Very good. Now, why don't you two go relay all this info back to the others. I'm going to get up to surgery. I won't know how long this will take, but I'll try to send out updates if I can." Dr. Early shook both John's and Roy's hands and left the room.

Not 30 seconds later, two orderlies and Dixie came to bring Mike up to surgery. Johnny walked alongside the gurney, holding on to Mike's hand. "Mike, man, I don't know if you can hear me right now, but hang in there, okay? We're all here now and we're gonna be here to see you through it all too. Just...hang in there." His voice cracked a little and he could tell his resolve was weakening. Roy patted Mike's uninjured shoulder, unable to speak. Seeing their engineer, the stereotypical strong and silent type, so badly hurt and with an uncertain outcome, was shaking them to the core. Cap had come up behind Roy and Johnny, wanting to...to what? Offer strength to his friend? Show support? Say...goodbye? No! He'd never think that. Cap only had time to place a hand on Mike's knee and tell him to be strong before his engineer was whisked away.

When the doors to the elevator closed, Roy put his arm around John's shoulder. "C'mon, Junior, let's go tell the guys." He noticed his Captain wasn't immediately joining them. "Cap? You comin'?" he asked.

"Yeah," Cap replied with a quiet, gravelly voice. "Yeah, I'm coming." Together, they would rejoin the rest of the crew and together they would wait for news.

Back at Mike's house, poor Sir Pain-in-the-butt was not used to being inside and not able to get outside. He wandered from room to room, mewing and sniffing, trying to find either his human friend or a way out. Finding neither, he paced back and forth on the windowsill, occasionally bumping his nose on the glass, hoping that maybe _this_ time, it wouldn't be there. Deciding it was time to take matters into his own paws, Sir Pain jumped down and padded across the living room to the kitchen. Hopping up to the counters, he intended to get a drink from the sink. Mike had vomited in the sink earlier and once Sir Pain caught a whiff, he most definitely wasn't going to try there! He trotted over near the cabinet and found the bag of bread that Officer Belton had used to make toast that morning. With a deft claw, he peeled away part of the plastic and had some whole wheat for lunch.

Next stop was over to the fish tank and he entertained himself by watching Larry, Moe and Curly swimming around. _They_ had water, surely it wouldn't be too hard for _him_ to get some. He hooked a claw under the tank hood and after several unsuccessful attempts, he finally achieved his goal of sliding the cover off the tank. He carefully dipped a paw in and removed it quickly, then sat there, licking the water off. Where there's a cat, there's a way! He pushed the cover over further so he could lick directly from the tank. The water wasn't what he was used to, but it was wet and served its purpose. After his lunch and a good washing of his face and paws, Pain resumed his search for Mike. Finally, he decided that Mike's bed was the place to be to wait for his return, so he curled up in a fuzzy gray ball and slept.

Mike's friends, knowing it would likely be hours before they heard any news, had gotten lunch at the cafeteria, then solemnly trudged up to the surgery waiting area. Slowly, one by one, they all dozed off, with the exception of Cap. Marco's head fell forward and rested on his chest as he snoozed, Chet's leaned to the side, cushioned by a rolled up magazine. Johnny was curled in a corner on the floor, with his head lying on the edge of a chair. Roy sat upright in his chair, his arms on his thighs, and had it not been for his head flopped backwards, mouth hanging open, and the slight trail of drool on his cheek, he'd have appeared to be still awake.

Cap, however, couldn't or wouldn't allow himself to relax. This was Mike Stoker, his second in command, his confidante, his stalwart engineer, undergoing brain surgery! He guessed he'd always thought Mike just seemed untouchable by chaos- calm and confident in all situations. Those were just a couple of reasons why Cap admired the man. Of course in his eyes, Cap's entire crew was the best, but Stoker just had that...whatever it was, that made him different. Anyway, the thoughts racing around in Cap's head, combined with three cups of astonishingly strong coffee, were not going to allow him to relax anytime soon. He'd keep watch, instead.

When everything was ready in the O.R., Dr. Early began the delicate procedure of removing the blood clot from Mike Stoker's skull. He'd performed this particular type of surgery many times before and was confident he could do it again. Carefully, he made the first incision and prepared to insert the drainage tube. He just hoped and prayed that it would not be a larger clot than he thought it was. If it were, it would most likely end this man's career. Large blood clots, in addition to needing a far more invasive operation, often left the patient with brain damage, permanent weakness, seizures or speech problems. If only there were an x-ray that could see such blood clots closer and in more depth, then he would know beforehand what he was facing. He had heard that a new type of x-ray, called a CAT scan was being used in some large teaching hospitals, but he hadn't been able to see one up close. Perhaps, if CAT scan units became as useful as he heard they were, Rampart would get one too. What an enormous help that would be in diagnosing brain injuries! Until then, though, he'd just be sure to be as precise as he'd always been and pray that the Man Upstairs would take the lead.


	6. Chapter 6

**What a Pain- Chapter Six**

Three and a half hours into Mike's surgery, the men of Station 51 were still there, waiting and worrying. They had all awakened from their naps, and resumed their collective fretting. They had not gotten any updates as of yet, and to them, that meant bad news. Chet looked about to implode with his distress as he twiddled his thumbs and chewed his nails. Cap was as anxious as he'd ever been, pacing frenetically around the small room, down the hall and to the restroom and back. Marco had read and re-read the same paragraph in the year-old magazine he held on his lap, alternating between that and staring off into space. If any of them had been smokers, they might have been transformed into chimneys by then. Logically, Roy and Johnny knew that no news was probably still okay, but when in Rome... all that nervous energy was starting to affect them too.

Johnny repeatedly started to ask Roy questions, and then thought better of it as he knew his crew mates would be paying too much attention to him; pouncing on any details the paramedics might give.

Roy finally stood and stretched, deciding he might go home for a bit to check on Joanne and the kids. He felt he should go and assure Joanne that she had done everything right and had in fact, most likely saved Mike's life. When stress and worry pushed him down, Roy longed for his wife's embrace; it was truly good medicine. Just as he turned to inform his friends of his plans, Dixie walked in with an update.

"Hey, fellas," she began, but as soon as the men saw her, they all bombarded her with questions. She held up her hand and shook her head to silence them. "Hold on, guys! One at a time! Better yet, how about you all hush and I'll tell you what I know." Each one of them was instantly silenced.

"Joe's just finishing Mike's surgery and is having him brought to recovery in about twenty minutes. The procedure itself went very well; nothing too surprising." All the guys let out a sigh of relief. "Joe said to make sure to tell you that it was a sub-acute hematoma and fortunately, it drained well. There was no need to drill a larger hole or for a craniotomy. Mike's going to be needing the vent for awhile and there may be some after-effects that will be pretty uncomfortable for some time. Could be for days, could be weeks, could be months. That's just something that will have to be dealt with as it comes."

"But...he'll make a full recovery...right?" Cap almost whispered. "He'll still be able to function as an engineer?"

"Well, now, Dr. Early seems to think everything points in that direction. He's very optimistic, but we all know how delicate brain surgery is; there are no absolutes at this point. We'll all just have to wait and see for a few days at least," Dixie comforted. "You know, Mike's going to be asleep for quite some time and won't even be moved to ICU for at least another hour or more. Why don't you guys go home and get cleaned up, get something to eat or whatever, and come back a little later, hm?"

They had all been so tightly wound waiting for news, that now, once they knew their friend would recover, the departing tension exhausted them. Chet felt weak in the knees with relief, Marco closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. Cap had already ceased his panicked pacing, and was ready to simply drop. Johnny and Roy exhaled, smiled and nodded. Just having Mike survive the surgery was enough to make it a really good day.

Roy was the next one able to speak. "Okay, Dix. We, uh, we all really appreciate you coming out here to tell us how it all went. I think we'll all go on home for a bit. I know Joanne will be worried sick." Turning to Johnny, Cap, Chet and Marco he said, "C'mon guys. How about we all come back in a couple of hours?"

The men bade Dixie farewell, and were slowly walking to the exit when Johnny said, "Hey, Chet? You still have the key to Mike's place? I think I'll go check on that cat."

Chet dug around in his pockets and produced the key. "Here, man. Don't let that crazy thing attack ya' again."

Johnny chuckled a little, "Yeah, Tarzan the Ape-Cat sure took a heck of leap onto my shoulder, didn't he?"

They walked together to the parking lot, then simultaneously realized that they had all ridden in Chet's van. "Well, Chet, looks like you're playing chauffeur again today," Marco said. As they all climbed in, he added, "Home, James, and don't spare the horses!"

It was nearly six-thirty by the time everyone got back to their own homes, and Chet had brought Johnny to Roy's. Since his Rover was being worked on, Gage would borrow Roy's truck so he could go back to Mike's. The three firemen stood in Roy's driveway, talking.

"I think after we see Mike later on, maybe I'll just stay at his place tonight. You know, kinda' keep an eye on the house and all. Mike's got a spare room I can use and I'll pick some clothes up from my apartment."

Chet scoffed, "Right, Gage. You just want to use Mike's big bathroom and watch his color TV and drink his beer."

That's not true, Chet!" Johnny protested hotly, "I _was _going to take in the mail, and feed his fish and water the plants. Man, why do you always have to be such a jerk? Can't a guy help out a pal without you takin' jabs at him? Jeez," Johnny paused and smiled, "besides...he doesn't keep any beer on hand."

That helped break the tension and the men finally laughed after a stressful day. Roy handed the keys to his truck to Johnny. "Here ya' go, Junior. Take of the ol' girl, she has to last me a few years yet."

"Will do, Pally," Johnny replied. "Hey, it's about six-thirty right now, how about we all meet back at the hospital around eight? I know visiting hours will be over by then, but I'll bet Dixie'll talk 'em into letting us in to see Mike."

"Sounds good. Boy, I hope Joanne still has some dinner left; I'm famished," Roy told them. "I'll see you guys in a little while." He turned to go into the house as Chet and Johnny got in their vehicles.

When Roy entered his house, he was immediately bombarded by his children. Joanne had explained to them why Daddy wasn't there, so they were also worried about "Mr. Mike, the engine-driver guy."

Joanne was next in line for a hug and kiss. "Well?" she asked, "How is he?"

Roy told her everything Dixie had reported and Joanne sagged with relief against her husband. "I'm so glad," she choked out. "I was so worried when you called earlier and said he needed brain surgery. Thank Heaven, he'll be okay."

Back at Rampart, Mike was still sedated, but seemed to be holding his own quite well. Vitals all looked good and he would be going from recovery to ICU in just a few minutes. Dr. Early smiled in satisfaction; another job well done. He believed this man would be just fine and with some luck and hard work, he'd be back at Station 51 where he belonged. He patted the young man's hand, checked on all the IVs, the heart monitor, the ventilator and all the other things that reassured him that his patient was alive and healing. He knew that Mike had a long road to go yet. There would more than likely be side-effects from this surgery, and who knew how he would fare emotionally if the worst came to be and he would not be able to go back to his position as Engineer. Joe also knew, however, that no matter what happened, Mike would always have his friends and coworkers from Station 51 by his side.

At Mike's house, Johnny let himself in, and was greeted with a snarl from a very annoyed cat. Sir Pain had spent all day napping and was highly irritated that after all this time, he still couldn't find his human or a way outside.

"Awright, kitty, hold your fur on. I bet you're a hungry dude, aren't' ya?" Johnny thought for minute, then said, "Actually, I bet you need to go out first. Am I right?"

The cat seemed to know what Johnny meant and trotted after him to the door that led to the backyard. When the door opened, Johnny watched as the cat sniffed around, then sauntered out to the veggie garden, and set about doing his business. "Hmm, pretty smart cat," he muttered. Then he caught a whiff of something rank and followed his nose into the kitchen. His eyes widened as he saw the fish-tank lid askew, the bread bag torn apart and crumbs all over the counter and smelled the vomit that was still in the sink. "Oh, brother, what a mess!" He sighed deeply and got to work. "Can't leave Mike's house like this."

Johnny found a bucket and rags in the garage, soap and cleaners under the kitchen sink, and a mop in the closet. First he went to the bathroom to fill the bucket with hot water, and discovered the bathtub also still had vomit in it. "Oh, this just keeps getting better and better," he mumbled. He got the cleaner from the kitchen and started on the bathtub first. He ended up scouring the entire bathroom and as he sat back to admire his work, he heard the doorbell chime.

He opened the door and was surprised to see Chet standing there. "Chet? Why are you here? I thought we were going to meet back at Rampart."

"Yeah, well, I figured you'd maybe want to get something to eat. I tried to call, but nobody answered.

"Huh. I didn't hear it. Must have been when I was scrubbing the bathroom."

Chet raised an eyebrow, "You're cleaning a latrine? Willingly?"

Johnny frowned back at him, "Yes, Chet. Mike kinda made a mess earlier, ya' know. I don't want to let it set until he gets home."

"Oh, gotcha," Chet replied. "Um, well, you need any help?"

Johnny brightened, "Sure, pal. You can start on the blood stains in the carpet."

Chet blanched. "Blood stains? From when he cut his hand?"

"Yep, there's kind of trail from the living room to the bathroom. I have a bucket of hot, soapy water here. Just take a rag and scrub the spots with it. Make sure you rinse it really well with clean water."

Chet looked around to locate the stains. "Yeah, okay. I'll get right at it. What are you going to do?"

"I get the pleasure of washing the vomit from the kitchen sink and cleaning up after the cat. He apparently made himself some lunch earlier and didn't put his things away," Johnny replied, sarcastically.

"Speakin' of that freaky feline, where is he?" Chet asked.

"Back in the garden, doing his duty," Johnny smiled. "I don't know if there's any cat food around here, or where that thing sleeps, but I guess Mike won't mind if we wing it for awhile."


	7. Chapter 7

**What a Pain! – Chapter Seven**

By the time Johnny and Chet were ready to return to Rampart, the cat was sitting outside on a lounge chair looking as smug as a cat could, while the guys surveyed the house, admiring their work. Though it was true Mike's house was rarely ever in a state of chaos, the events of the day had left it looking like a war field. Since Johnny had already scoured the bathroom, he and Chet moved on to clean the kitchen. After tidying up after the cat, washing down the cupboards, and disinfecting the sinks, they picked up all the leavings from Squad 10, then scrubbed away every last drop of blood from the carpet.

Chet beamed, "We did a lot of work in the past hour, Gage, but I have to say, it looks pretty good." Then his eyes wandered to the patio doors, where the cat was now sitting.

Johnny agreed, "Yep. Somehow it didn't even seem as bad as cleaning up in the station sometimes, either." Glancing at his watch, he said, "Oh, hey, it's pretty close to eight o'clock; how about we just grab a bite at the Dairy Queen on the way to Rampart?"

Chet was distracted by the sight of the gray cat, staring at him from behind the glass of the patio doors. "Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, sure. Dairy Queen's good, whatever."

Johnny was amused, "Chet, I think I could have told you your mustache was on fire and you wouldn't have noticed. Whatsa' matter, cat got your brain?"

Chet shot a dirty look to Johnny, and then continued to stare back at the cat. "_No_, he doesn't have my brain. I was just wonderin' how he does that."

"Does what?"

"How he manages to get humans to give him whatever he wants without being able to speak." Chet answered. "I mean, he got Mike _to _that fire, he got Mike _out _of that fire, he convinced you to go down the hall to find Mike, AND he told you he needed to go outside, and all he did was meow."

Gage chortled, "You, Chet, haven't spent nearly enough time around animals, or you'd have already figured that out. They just have a way of communicating to humans. I can't explain how I know when one of my horses isn't well when they don't show it, or how this cat got me to let him out, it...just happens."

Chet was offended, "What do you mean I don't spend enough time with animals? Have you forgotten about Sarge, my dog? _We_ are pals, pal. This dog and I _know _each other..."

Johnny just rolled his eyes and, not being in the mood to listen to Kelly expound on the superiority of dogs versus cats, he decided to let the subject drop. "Whatever you say, Kelly, whatever you say. Let's just get going, eh? We're gonna be late." He stopped long enough to put a bowl of water and a chopped up hotdog on the deck for the cat to eat while they were gone.

"Gage...a hotdog? Cats don't eat hotdogs," Chet scoffed.

"Look, Chet, a cat will east whatever it can get if it's hungry enough. I've never known a cat to starve to death when it has food available. Besides, it's all there was to give him. I'll pick up some cat food on the way to Rampart. Let's go."

Gage and Kelly jumped into the VW van and headed to the DQ for a bite. Though they both were getting tired, they were still anxious to see how Mike was faring, so they hurried along.

Mike Stoker had just been moved from recovery to ICU and was sleeping peacefully. His handsome face was a mass of bruises on the left side from behind his head all the way around to his nose, and was swathed in white bandages. His left shoulder, also deeply bruised, had an extra pillow underneath it and a large ice pack on top of it. Although pale and still, Dr. Early was comforted that so far, the young man seemed to be getting along well. Time would tell how the surgery went once the man woke.

He was sure it wouldn't be long before Mike's friends would show up. He knew the routine, and he smiled. The men would arrive en mass and, although it would be past visiting hours, they would plead their case and either he or Dixie would give their consent for one or two of them to visit at a time. They would congregate in the waiting area and stay until someone finally booted them out for the night. Sure, it was technically against hospital policy, but they were his friends as well as occasional patients, so he supposed he could bend the rules now and then.

Dr. Early walked out of Mike's room and, as if on cue, saw the crew of 51 entering the waiting area. Captain Stanley approached him and asked, "Well Doctor Early, how's our man? Has he woken up?"

Dr. Early smiled, "No, not yet, Captain, but I look for that to happen soon. His vitals all look good and he's resting well. Would you like to see him?"

"Can we?" Captain Stanley asked. "I mean, I realize this if after visiting hours and all, but ..."

Dr. Early patted the man on his shoulder, "Let's just say, I figured you'd be coming in tonight. You guys go on and sit down, I'll clear it with the nurses to let you go in two at a time for 5 minutes a visit. Let's not take all night though, okay? Mr. Stoker needs his rest."

"I understand, Dr. Early, thank you so much. Marco? You want to join me, pal?"

"Sure, Cap, thanks," Marco said as he rose from his seat.

ICU was never a quiet place, and Mike's room was no exception. He was lying still and appeared comfortable as Cap and Marco approached the bed. It was a sight Cap didn't ever think he'd see. He picked up Mike's hand, unsure if it was the right thing to do. "Hey, Mike, it's Cap. Uh, looks like you're doing good...I, uh, hope you'll be waking up soon. Um, Dr. Early said everything went really well, so..." Cap didn't really know what to say to his friend, and the silence had him on edge.

Marco stood on the other side of Mike's bed and started to rub lightly on Mike's forearm. "Yeah, Mike. We're all here tonight. You be strong, okay? We're going to leave for a bit and let two of the other guys come in, okay?"

They were about to leave when they noticed Mike's eyes fluttering. Thinking he might be waking, they summoned Dr. Early. Joe flicked the penlight across Mike's eyes, checked his heart rate and respirations, and concurred that Mike was indeed rousing from his sleep.

Mike's eyes opened halfway and he became frightened when he realized there was a tube in his throat and another one snaking into his nose. His eyes widened and he looked around, not really registering where he was or who the people were who were watching him. His panic increased and his breathing became rapid, struggling against the rhythm of the vent. He weakly turned his head, which caused a sharp, blinding pain to shoot across his face. Dr. Early and Captain Stanley could tell that Mike would soon be in distress if this wasn't dealt with.

"Mike? It's Cap. Calm down, son. It's okay, just relax...calm down..." Cap placed a hand on Mike's uninjured shoulder and his deep voice was soothing. Mike focused on it as his eyes still roved around the room, trying to clear the fog his brain was steeped in.

He fought the ventilator, and Dr. Early told him, "Mike, we can go ahead and remove that if you like. Just settle down a bit and we'll have Respiratory up here in a few minutes. He turned and stepped out of the room just long enough to have a nurse page a Respiratory Therapist. In a few minutes, the therapist arrived and Cap and Marco were asked to step outside of the room. The vent was removed, Mike was re-situated, and Cap was allowed back in. Marco graciously allowed his Captain to have some time alone with his second in command.

"Mike?" Cap said, gently, "How can I help you, pal? Are you thirsty?"

Mike simply gazed at Cap, wracking his brain, trying to understand who the man was who was speaking. Finally realizing it was Captain Stanley, Mike tried to speak to him. "Caaaaa?" Mike groaned. "Waaa... haaaaend?" Startled by the lack of control he had over his own voice, Mike tried again. "Caaaaa," he whimpered, "hehl... meeeee?" The desperation in Mike's voice was breaking Cap's heart.

Cap knew his engineer needed reassurance. "It's okay, Michael, I promise. You bumped your head really hard and the doctor here needed to fix you up. You had surgery this afternoon, but you're going to be okay. We're here for you, pal. We're not leaving you alone."

Mike couldn't help feeling afraid, but the deep resonating sound of his Captain's voice helped calm his fears. "Iiiiiiii...ssssssoorrrrr...Caaaa," Mike told him as unbidden tears fell from his eyes. He was beyond scared; he was terrified and he hoped the grip of the hand he felt on his would never leave.

"Son, don't apologize for being afraid. You're strong, Michael. You're going to be okay, I promise," Cap continued his calm reassurance, "I know you're scared, but..." his voice cracked, "you're not alone. The guys and I...we're going to be with you through this. You just rest now, okay?" His hand clasped Mike's even firmer as he watched his friend fall asleep again. It would be a long haul, but his fierce dedication to his men didn't know an ending point, and he knew the entire crew of 51s felt the same.


	8. Chapter 8

**What a Pain! - Chapter Eight**

Cap walked dejectedly from Mike's room, still upset by what he witnessed. Dr. Early assured him that it was very early in Stoker's recovery and not to worry too much, but that, of course, was much easier said than done. All eyes were on him as he returned to the ICU waiting area.

"Cap? What's wrong?" Roy asked, noticing his Captain's expression, "Is he okay?"

Cap ran a weary hand through his hair, "Yeah, he'll be okay. He's just... a little rattled by all the monitors and the vent and such. Dr. Early said not to be too concerned yet. I think Mike was just scared. Um, anyone else want to go in? He fell asleep again before I left, but you can still sit with him for awhile."

"Roy? You want to go with me? I think I'll go on in," Johnny said.

"Sure, I'll go." As the two friends walked towards Mike's room, Johnny looked back at Cap who was now sitting in a waiting room chair, his head in his hands. Marco and Chet moved to sit next to Cap.

"He'll be okay, Cap," Marco said softly.

"Yeah, I know. It's just...hard to see him like that. That...wasn't Mike in there," he told Marco and Chet. "I swear...I'll _never_ get used to seeing one of you guys in a hospital bed," he said with a heavy sigh.

When John and Roy entered Mike's room, everything appeared fine to their trained eyes. Mike was asleep for now, his heart rate was steady and his breathing was even. His face, however, caused them both to wince. They could only imagine how painful having a hole drilled in your skull would be, and they paused to consider how Mike's recovery would go. Johnny placed his hand on Mike's knee and said, "Hey, Stoker, you hang in there, okay?"

"Yeah, Mike, we know it's weird to wake up in the hospital, but, uh, you know, everyone here is going to do everything possible to make it okay for you," Roy told his friend.

At that point, Mike began to stir again. His eyelids quivered and then opened. "Mike?" Johnny said, "Are you with us?"

It took a bit for Mike to find his voice again, but fortunately he was more lucid this time. His voice cracked as he felt the touch of his friends, "Heeey," he whispered, "I...I..."

"Mike, it's okay," Roy told him calmly. "Take all the time you need. Do you know what happened?"

Mike tried to shake his head "no," but the pain made him stop and close his eyes. He sighed as deeply as he could and looked at Roy again.

Johnny and Roy took turns explaining to Mike everything that had happened to him. It was a lot for the man to absorb, but he understood.

"You just relax, man; you'll be alright. You sleep now, and we'll be back tomorrow. You'll feel better then, too, okay?" Johnny told him. Mike smiled weakly and closed his eyes again.

Roy and John tiptoed out of the room, feeling reassured. Cap's expression when he returned to the waiting area had shaken them all up, but now they knew that Mike's fear had mostly been the side-effect of the anesthesia and waking up in an unfamiliar place. Things would surely be better tomorrow.

Chet made one quick trip in to see Mike, then decided it was better to let him sleep. He'd try again in the morning. He and Johnny said goodbye to the others, and headed back to Mike's house. It wasn't very late when they returned, so they decided to sit out on the patio for awhile. The cat had eaten the hotdog and welcomed them back with a litany of complaints. Johnny feigned interest, "Oh really?" he told the cat, "you don't say! Uh huh, then what happened? You did? Hmmm, I'm not sure that was a good idea..." and so on until Chet nearly blew a gasket.

"Will you stop that?!" Chet snarled. "Stop talking to that crazy animal and sit down. Sheesh, Gage, you're crazier than that cat!"

"Oh, Kelly, pipe down. I'm just trying to lighten things up around here. Take it easy," Johnny snarled back. He plopped down on a lounge chair and sipped on the beer they had brought back from their trip. Right after their visit to the hospital, he and Chet had swung by a late-night Mom-n-Pop for some essentials: Milk, bread, coffee, beer, Pop-tarts, eggs, bacon, cookies, cold meat, Funyuns, Cheeze Waffies and cat food. Nutritionally vague, to be sure, but those were the staples that both men were used to. Johnny tore open the bag of Cheeze Waffies and ate a fistful. The cat sat and stared at him. "What?" he asked the cat through a mouthful of snacks. Although the cat didn't answer, Johnny could have sworn he saw the animal roll his eyes at him before stalking off.

Chet stayed for about an hour before he headed on home. Johnny tossed the empty snack bag in the trash, finished his beer and went to get ready for bed. Although Mike did have a spare room, Johnny thought he'd watch a little TV first, and so made a bed for himself on the sofa. He found a good movie to watch and snuggled down. He knew he'd probably fall asleep and wake up to the test pattern, but he also knew he'd never be able to get up to turn the set off beforehand; he was exhausted. "Man, I wish there was a way to turn a TV off from the couch. When I'm this pooped, I'd do anything to not have to get up to change a channel or turn the thing on or off." He giggled at the thought of that ever happening. "Right...a remote control television! Like that would ever be invented in my lifetime!"

To his surprise, the small gray cat leaped up to the back of the sofa and made himself a nest on the afghan Mike always kept lying there. He stared down at Johnny and began to purr loudly. He had decided that this human wasn't so bad. Maybe he'd watch over the man during the night, and perhaps his favorite human would come back soon. The cat closed his pretty green eyes and his gentle purring lulled Johnny to sleep before the first commercial break.

When the morning came, the static on the television crackled in the background as Johnny stretched and yawned loudly. He got up, cracked and crunched his joints and looked around for the cat. Staggering into the kitchen, he decided coffee was needed before anything else. When that was in progress, he saw the cat sitting patiently by the patio doors again, apparently waiting to be left out. Johnny did just that, mentally thanking the cat for being so willing to go outside to do his duty. At least that way, there would be no litter box that would need cleaning. No, he surely would not be able to face cat poop that early in the morning.

Johnny made toast and eggs to go with the coffee, fed the fish, watered the plants and set a plate of kitty-kibble on the floor for the cat. "I don't know what Mike feeds you, but this will have to do, cat," he told it once it returned to the indoors. Little did Johnny know that Mike had only fed the cat scraps outside. Eating real cat food, and indoors to boot, was a real treat for Sir Pain. Johnny patted the cat on the head before going back to his own breakfast. After a hot shower and shave, he dressed and decided to head to Rampart. Maybe things would be much easier on Mike today.

All the nurses smiled at Johnny, with the exception of one redhead who glared at him and turned on her heel as soon as they made eye contact. "Who was that again? Oh yeah, Ginny. She was the one I accidentally spilled the wine on. No, wait, she was the one who twisted her ankle falling at the bowling alley...wasn't she? Hmmm..." He wasn't surprised to see Cap already there and waiting for visiting hours to start at 10:00; just a few minutes to go.

"Hey, Cap!" Johnny greeted. "Anybody else here yet?"

"No, not that I've seen. I don't suppose it will be much longer though," Cap said glumly.

Detecting his captain's mood, Johnny said, "Cap, look, I'm sure he'll be better today. Yesterday was bound to be rough on him, ya' know?"

Nodding, Cap agreed. "I know, John, I'm just real anxious to see for myself." At that point, he looked up, noticed it was three minutes past ten, and fairly jogged to the nurses station. "Can we go in to see Michael Stoker in room 410, please?"

"Yes, Captain Stanley, I was informed that you and some of your men would be here this morning. You may go in, two at a time, for no more than ten minutes per visit, every half hour."

"Yes, ma'am, thank you. John? Let's go, pal."

With trepidation, they opened the door to Mike's room. They were thrilled to see him sitting partially up and talking with Dr. Early. Captain Stanley gripped his engineer's hand, "Mike! So glad to see you up and talking! How are you feeling this morning?" he asked with a large grin.

"Prrrrretty gooood, Caaap," Mike said, slowly. He concentrated on each syllable, struggling to get all the words out. Cap looked up at Dr. Early, who noticed his concern.

"Just a side-effect, Captain. He might have some trouble with speech or short term memory for a while, but he's doing very well this morning," he assured. "I think Mr. Stoker here will do just fine."

The three firemen grinned at each other, and Cap finally exhaled. "Can we get you anything, Mike?"

Mike looked over to Johnny, "Jooohhny,,, mmmy caaat okaaay?"

Johnny smiled, "Your cat? That thing's nuts, Mike, but yeah, he's okay."

Mike smiled and closed his eyes. Despite the morphine, his head still felt like a thousand hammers were pounding around inside. "Paaaiin..." he murmured.

Cap and Johnny looked at each other. "Mike?" Johnny asked, "are you in more pain? Do you need some meds?"

"Nnnnoo," he said as he opened his eyes again, "Paaaaiin iiiis mmmy caaaat," he tried to explain. "Hee saaaved mmmy liiife."

Bewildered, Cap and Johnny only gazed at Mike. "Uh, your cat's _name_ is Pain? Really?" Johnny asked.

Mike nodded slowly and smiled. "Heee's aah gooood guuy."


	9. Chapter 9

**What a Pain! - Chapter Nine**

Johnny and Cap both smiled at Mike's description of his cat. It was a rather 'mushy' side of their engineer that they were rarely made privy to. Mike was trying hard to chat, but the pounding in his head was made worse with sound or movement, so after a few more minutes, he decided to just close his eyes for awhile.

The door opened quietly, and two women entered. One appeared to be in her early thirties, the other perhaps around the age of sixty. The elder one walked with small, slow steps and held tightly onto the younger one's arm. Cap and Johnny stood up as they introduced themselves as Mike's mother and sister.

Captain Stanley graciously pulled the chair out for Mike's mother. "Thank you, Captain, that's very kind of you."

"Not at all, Mrs. Stoker. I imagine you've had a long morning."

"Call me Dorothy, please, Captain, and yes, it's been a bit of drive. I have severe arthritis, as I imagine you can tell, and I don't drive any longer. Nor do I make a good passenger for very long, either, I'm afraid. My daughter Jeannie here, picked me up this morning." She smiled tiredly as she turned her attention to her son, who appeared to be napping again. "How is he, Captain? I've been so worried when Jeannie told me about his accident. It's...hard to have to wait for someone to drive me places when I'd much rather jump into the car and drive myself here."

Jeannie stood at her mother's shoulder and gazed at her "little" brother. The bandages and bruises on his face were startling to be sure, but the actual thought of what he'd been through nearly brought her to tears. She moved over to gently place her hand on his unbruised cheek. Using her childhood nickname for him, she whispered, "Oh, Mighty, what have you done to yourself?"

Mike opened his eyes and gazed up at his sister. "Jeeeeneeee?" He smiled as wide as he could before the pain made him draw back. "Yyoooo caaaame...heeeer?"

She looked with concern to Dr. Early, who had been standing off to the side. "It's okay, Miss, I fully expect his speech to return completely in time. The nerves have been very irritated by the surgery, so he may have some difficulty for awhile."

Jeannie felt relieved hearing that, and turned back to her brother. "You wouldn't be able to keep me away, Mighty. You're _my_ little brother," she said with a watery smile, and leaned down to kiss his face. "Mom's here, too, just a second..."

Jeannie helped their mom stand up and guided her to her son's bedside. It had been months since he'd seen her, and it was great to have her here, even under less than pleasant circumstances.

"Hiiii, Mommm," Mike said, with love in his voice.

"Oh, Michael, sweetie! I'm so sorry you had to go through this!" her voice cracked as she fretted over her son. "All alone...and...surgery...oh, my..."

"Mommm, Iiiiii'm noooot aaalone...Iiii haaave," his eyes moved up to Johnny and Cap, "th-th-the guuuys." Speaking that much was quite an effort, but well worth it. His mom smiled, reassured that her son's friends and coworkers were there to help, and his friends smiled, knowing Mike knew he would not have to face this trial on his own.

Cap cleared his throat, "Uh, I think maybe there's too many people in here. How about you and I take off for now, Johnny, and leave Mike here with his family?"

"Sure, Cap. Hey, uh, Mike, we'll see you later on, okay? Take care, bud," Johnny smiled. "It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Stoker, and you, Jeannie."

Mike nodded slightly and looked back to his mom and sister. It did wonderful things for him to have them near. Ever since his dad died when Mike was twelve, his mom and Jeannie were his whole family. Then Jeannie was married and eventually gave Mike two nephews and a niece, who always made him smile. He liked her husband and understood why they moved to Oregon for his job, but he missed them terribly. Having them there made him very happy.

Dorothy and Jeannie stayed the rest of the morning, visiting Mike every other hour, as his shift-mates were also there to visit. Each time Dr. Early or a nurse checked on him, they reported he was doing well. By lunch time, they all decided to let Mike rest for awhile in the afternoon, so Johnny showed them the way to the cafeteria.

"Um, where are are you staying, Mrs. Stoker? Mike has a spare bedroom or two. I, uh, I stayed there last night to feed his cat and fish, but there's plenty of room. The mess is all cleaned up, I mean, not that it was messy or anything, but I...I do have an apartment of my own..." he stopped talking and blushed deeply when he realized he was babbling nervously.

Dorothy chuckled, "You're so sweet, John, but Jeannie and I have a hotel room across from the hospital. It's on the ground floor, you see. I'm afraid it's just too difficult for me to get up the steps at Michael's house anymore. Not without lots of help or my wheelchair, anyway. But, did you say Michael has a cat? I didn't know that...I wonder when that happened."

"Well, I don't know when he got the cat, but it's a pretty amazing animal, Mrs. Stoker. Mike would probably like to tell you the whole story when he's able, but let's just say that kitty has definitely earned his keep," Johnny told the ladies.

"Well," Jeannie added, "I hope he'll be able to come home soon. I'm able to stay for two weeks, but my husband's mother is watching the children while I'm gone, and well, she tends to let the monkeys run the zoo, if you know what I mean. Two weeks at a time is enough for them to be off their schedule."

"I understand," Johnny snickered. "I imagine that's what it would be like if we let Chet be Captain for a day."

He made sure the ladies knew how to find their way back to Mike's room, then decided to leave for awhile. He'd get something to eat, then go and check on Pain.

In Mike's room, Cap, Roy, Marco and Chet were just leaving, and Mike had fallen asleep again. They had been there since ten and it was now past two. It was good to have him talking, but everyone knew he needed rest above anything else, so they would wait and come back in the evening. They were hungry, plus there were errands to run as it was their last day off before going back to work in the morning.

The room was empty and quiet aside from the ever-present sounds of the machines, when Mike's hands began to tremble. His legs followed suit and started to shake, slightly at first, then increasing. His head began to shake as well, causing intense pain and making Mike cry out.

A nurse came running in, then called out to the hall to Dr. Early, who rushed in. "Nurse! 2cc's diazepam IM, stat!"

Normally, a seizure can resolve on it's own, but since Mike was vulnerable from the surgery, they couldn't risk letting him ride it out; they had to get it under control immediately. Soon, the medication took effect and Mike's body relaxed as the seizure ended. Dr. Early attached the EKG leads to check Mike's heart rate, then unwound the bandages to check the incision. Mike wasn't completely conscious, but neither was he aware of what just happened. He moaned quietly and Dr. Early imagined the pain in Mike's head must be tremendous. He was grateful that the man's family and friends hadn't been present to witness the seizure or Mike's obvious distress after.

Fortunately, no damage was done, and the bandages were replaced. Of course Dr. Early knew seizures were common after this type of surgery, but he was truly hoping that this particular side effect would not occur. Time would tell if the seizures would dissipate completely or become a permanent part of Mike's life. Intermittent or not, Mike would need medication to keep the seizures at bay, at least for awhile, and there was no way he could be a firefighter in that case.

Early made certain his patient was comfortable again, and left the room, hoping that this event would be the first and only one.


	10. Chapter 10

**What a Pain! -Chapter Ten**

When the evening visiting hours came around, Dorothy and Jeannie headed back to Mike's room. A pretty nurse had just given Mike his bath and was changing his IV. He was unaware of the seizure he had earlier, and was dozing, his body as comfortable as it could be on the stark white hospital bed. The women whispered their conversation as Dr. Early came in to do his final rounds for the day.

"Hello, Mrs. Stoker; Jeannie, nice to see you again."

"Hello again, Dr. Early," Mrs. Stoker said with a tired smile.

Noticing Mike beginning to wake, he said, "Would it be alright if we spoke out here for a moment?" he asked, pointing to the hall. "I'd like to discuss something with you."

"Certainly," Dorothy told him. She and Jeannie made their way to the sitting area not far from Mike's room. As they sat on the orange Naugahyde chairs, Jeannie held her mother's hand.

"A short time after you left earlier, Mike had a seizure," he informed gently. "I want you to understand though, that seizures are very common after the type of surgery Mike's had. It's possible he'll have more of them until he's completely healed; it's also possible he may have to deal with seizures long-term, or he may never have another one again. I want to warn you ahead of time, however, if one occurs while you are with him."

Dorothy Stoker was aching in body and spirit, and leaned against her daughter and began to weep. It was bad enough seeing her son in such a condition, but to know he was having complications made it even worse.

"We have Mike on a low-dose of medication that is meant to prevent seizures, and we'll have to see how it works and adjust it as need be. The seizure did not cause any damage to the surgical site and his blood pressure has remained stable. Those are two very good signs," Dr. Early reassured them.

"Poor Mighty," Jeannie whispered. "I just hate this for him."

"I know this is rough," the good doctor added, "but I'm still optimistic. It's just going to take time."

"We understand, Dr. Early, thank you," Mike's mom said, sniffling. "I do apologize. May we go in now?"

"Absolutely, but don't feel you need to apologize; you've done nothing wrong. Take your time with your visit and when you're ready to leave, I'll speak with him."

Mike was awake again when they entered, but the nurse had administered his pain meds, and he was becoming drowsy.

"Hello, sweetheart," his mom said gently, "are you feeling up to another visit from us?"

Mike smiled and nodded wearily, "Yeah, mmom, I-I'm glaad to see yooo agaain."

They both noticed Mike didn't sound like he was struggling with his speech as much and Dorothy and Jeannie held on to that ray of hope. Jeannie gently picked up Mike's bandaged hand. "How's your hand feeling, Mighty?"

Mike smiled hearing his nickname again, "Caan't ffeeel it reeally. Guess iit's okay."

The cut had been deep and Dr. Brackett took nineteen stitches to close the wound. He was fairly certain there was no major nerve involvement, however, so that was at least one less concern. Jeannie placed his hand back on the bed and tucked the sheets around him.

They chatted uneasily, but Dorothy was searching around the room, looking for something to talk about. The weather, as well as Jeannie's children, had been discussed ad nauseam, and the conversation had died out several times. Finally, she said, "Well... honey, we're not going to stay; we just wanted to pop in once more before visiting hours were over. It's been a long day for your old mom, too," she laughed. "I think your friends will be here again later, so you just relax, okay?" She leaned over as far as she could and placed a tender kiss on her son's forehead. "Good-night, sweetie; we'll be back in the morning."

"Ookay, mmoom," Mike told her, "Ssee you. Bye, Jeeeneee."

Although fretting on the inside, Jeannie smiled down at him, and then kissed his cheek. "Be good for the doctors, little brother, and I'll see you in the morning."

Dr. Early looked up from the nurses station and noticed the Stoker family leaving. He took that opportunity to go in and speak with Mike.

Dorothy and Jeannie walked tiredly towards the waiting area and saw Mike's Captain and his friends, John and Marco, entering. They were smiling and chatting and ready to see how Mike was getting along.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Stoker; Jeannie," Captain Stanley said, "How's Mike doing?"

Mrs. Stoker looked down, sighed, and said, "Well...oh, dear...I guess he had a seizure earlier..." Her voice cracked, fighting back another onslaught of tears. "Dr. Early said they're common after this kind of surgery, but I...I can't stand the thought of Michael going through this. He's been through so much already."

Although stunned by this development, realistically, Johnny knew what Dr. Early said was true. Still, it was not something anyone wanted to hear, especially a parent, he imagined. He took Dorothy's hands in his and said, "You know...Dr. Early doesn't mean to worry you. I…uh, I've been treated by him...well, let's just say it's been more than once, and he truly is one of the best. If he says not to worry too much, then we have to believe him." Mike's mom and sister were so nice, and for a fleeting moment, Johnny was envious that Mike still had family who loved and cared for him. Sure, he knew he had friends, very good friends, but a real family can't be replaced. It made him miss his own mother and father just a bit more.

The firemen then escorted Dorothy and Jeannie to the elevators and said good-night."Thank you, so much, gentlemen. Will we see you tomorrow?"

"Actually, ma'am, we're on shift tomorrow, but uh, here's the number to the station," Cap said, handing a piece of yellow paper to her, "please don't hesitate to call if you or Mike need anything."

She nodded and placed her stiff hands on Cap's leathery ones. "You are so kind, it really is a comfort to know Michael has you in his corner. I'll call with an update tomorrow." They looked kindly at each other as the steel doors slid closed.

The men trudged back to the nearly deserted ICU waiting area. Captain Stanley would visit first, alone, and then Marco and Johnny would stop in together on the next round. At least, that was the plan. As soon as Cap walked in, he approached his Engineer, who was staring at the white, pock-marked ceiling; a distinct frown on his face.

"Mike? How're you doing, pal?" Cap inquired softly.

As he turned his eyes to his Captain, it was clear that Mike was upset. Tears still pooled in his eyes, "Caap?" he asked with a shaking voice, "Whaaat w-w-iill I do? I-I mmiight nnot be an e-eng-gineeerr a-gain."

They both knew that seizures long-term would be a 'career-ender,' and it frightened them. Cap gripped his friend's hand and placed his other hand firmly on Mike's forearm. "You know what you're going to do? You're going to be okay, that's what. Give yourself some time, pal, it's still pretty early in the game. Tomorrow will be better, and the day after that, better yet."

Mike replied, "I-I hhhope ssso." He closed his eyes and took in a shaking breath.

Cap said tentatively, "Um, John and Marco are outside, do you want to see them or are you getting tired?"

"Dooo they knnnow about the s-s-seiz-ures? Mike sniffed. He wanted to yell and curse and throw something, but knowing the pain it would cause, he refrained from trying.

"Yeah, they do, pal. I guess Dr. Early kind of gave your mom and sister a heads-up, so they told us." he informed Mike.

"Oh," Mike said, dejectedly. He and was quiet for several long moments and Cap wondered if his friend had fallen asleep again. Suddenly, in a loud, strangled-sounding voice, Mike cried out, "Caaaap? I-I-I...ohhh..." Then his legs and arms began to shake again.

"Mike? Mike!" Cap's unspoken questions were answered as Mike suffered another seizure. He jumped up and called for a nurse. A doctor was paged as another dose of diazepam was swiftly administered. Cap looked on in stunned silence once the seizure had passed and when the doctor was satisfied that Mike hadn't suffered any damage, Cap sat next to Mike, holding his hand and murmuring reassurances. His own hands were shaking with anxiety as he whispered, "I'm so sorry, pal. I hate this, too. You'll be okay soon..." After a time, Captain Stanley quietly left the room to tell John and Marco what had occurred.

Burdened with the news of Mike's second seizure, Johnny said a forlorn goodbye and went to find a pay phone. He called Roy, and then Chet to suggest they not visit that night. Then he made his way back to Mike's house, wishing he didn't know what he knew.

Plodding tiredly into the house, Johnny found Sir Pain, napping on the sofa. The cat raised his head and looked at John, mreeeped a greeting, and hopped off to rub his fluffy mane against John's ankles. Johnny smiled and reached down to pick up the cat.

"Pain, huh? Wonder how Stoker picked that name. With you being gray and all, I'm surprised he didn't pick 'Smoky' or 'Ashes' or somethin' else fire related." Sir Pain snuggled into Johnny's shoulder, which drew a chuckle from the man. "You sure know how to kiss-up, don'tcha? C'mon, let's go get you some chow." Johnny let Pain out to the backyard for a while and filled the water and food bowls for his new friend. He fed the fish, and fetched the mail from the parquet foyer floor, where it lay after being stuffed through the mail slot.

He poured a large glass of milk and made a sandwich, placing it on a plate with some corn chips, and let Pain back in. He took his dinner into the living room and turned on the TV before plopping himself down heavily in the chair. He wasn't much interested in the show that was on, instead working over in his mind the possible implications of the seizures Mike had. The cat sat sentinel by his feet, and Johnny would drop pieces of ham to him from time to time. Sir Pain knew this human was anxious about something, so as soon as the plate was emptied and placed on the floor, he jumped up into the man's lap and purred as loudly as he could manage.

"Well, Pain, it's time for bed, I do believe." Johnny yawned, picked up Sir Pain and tossed him onto his shoulder. He stood up and to his surprise and delight, Pain stayed there, and rode Johnny's shoulder into the bathroom. Johnny leaned into the mirror above the sink and in a hearty pirate kind of voice said, "Arrrgh, Matey! I'll keel-haul ya' fer this!" He laughed as his furry 'parrot' stayed put on his shoulder. He squinted as if he were wearing an eye patch and scowled, "right then, Polly, let's be headin' out to sea!" He leaned down and Pain jumped to the toilet lid. He stayed near Johnny while the man showered and brushed his teeth, and Johnny was in a better mood merely because of the cat's presence.

It wasn't really all that late, but somehow, Gage knew he would probably have trouble falling asleep and thought he'd better get a head start. Sir Pain followed John to the spare bedroom, cat-talking all the way. "Mrow, yow, mrrr...," he told Johnny.

"You sure are somethin' else, aren't you, Pain. You're gonna keep Mike in conversation when he comes home, I'll bet." As Johnny put on clean boxers and a t-shirt, Sir Pain hopped up to the foot of the bed. "Guess you're determined to sleep here tonight, eh? Well, I suppose the company could be worse," he snorted. Then he turned off the light and closed his eyes, with Sir Pain curled up next to him, sounding very much like a tiny motorcycle.


	11. Chapter 11

**What a Pain! - Chapter Eleven**

Very early the next morning, Sir Pain made it clear that he wanted three things and he wanted them immediately. First, he wanted Johnny to wake up, second, he wanted to go outside, and third, he wanted food! A quick chomp to the fireman's nose achieved the first goal. "Yow! Damned cat!" Johnny yipped as he was startled awake.

Pain ambled away towards the patio doors, unfazed by the outburst, and waited for the human to let him out. Johnny noticed it was a gray and drizzly morning; a rather miserable start to the day. He curled his lip in amusement though, when he noticed a rather vexed Sir Pain trying to dodge raindrops on his way to the garden. "Ha! Serves you right for biting my nose, you ornery furball!" he called out the door.

After calling the man who boarded his horses to let him know the farrier would be coming out, Gage put on the coffee, fed the fish, watered the plants and generally tidied up before jumping in the shower. It was a close call for Sir Pain as Johnny nearly forgot about him. Just as he was about to leave the kitchen, he noticed the soggy cat glaring at him from the other side of the patio doors. "Hee-hee-hee, I should just leave you there for a while, you little cuss," he smiled.

Instead of following through with his threat, Johnny relented, let the cat in and even towel-dried him. Mostly. Sir Pain seemed grateful enough and purred his way over to his food dish while Johnny made his way to the shower. During his shower, Johnny had an idea. Before he left for the day, he dashed out to the Rover and retrieved his camera. With only five shots left before the film was used up, he took a few nice photos of Sir Pain-in-the-Butt. If he could get the pictures back in a day or two, he might be able to bring them to Mike in the hospital.

Johnny was growling about the too-rare rain as he dropped the film off at the camera store. As he then drove to the station, Johnny thought about Mike's situation. He figured Mike would have the right to be depressed and angry about this, but also knew that Mike was a strong and resilient man. If anyone could make the best of a situation, Mike Stoker would be that person. It would just take some more 'waiting and seeing'.

When Mike awoke, he felt like shit and told the nurse exactly that. The oxygen tubing irritated his skin, the IV site was itchy, he was tired of being in bed, his face hurt, his shoulder hurt, his hand hurt...he felt cranky and foggy and thirsty and homesick...for his cat? Okay, so feeling pain and being homesick were warranted. His mom and sister were there and...he desperately wanted to go home and be normal again.

Unaware that he had had a second seizure the night before, his mind kept wandering back to the news of the first one. Until Dr. Early came in, Mike would have some time to do some serious mulling about this. Everyone told him it could very possibly be temporary, so he'd just have to believe it. But _that._..was hard. He wasn't by nature one to wallow in self-pity, but he had to admit that this really had him rattled. Dr. Early had reassured him that the surgery had gone very well, so he expected everything to work itself out. In the meantime, he had more healing to focus on. His stitched hand had started to ache and the bruises on his face and shoulder were causing him more pain than he ever thought a bruise could cause. He lay back on the bed, closed his eyes, and waited for the nurse to bring the pain relief.

Mike was grateful that his nurse was Wendy Hoskins, a friend and former neighbor. She'd been at Rampart for many years and would be sure to lend an ear if ever Mike needed one. Wendy had raised the head of the bed so that he was sitting up and turned the TV on for a distraction while she took care of him. There wasn't really much on the TV, so he picked up the newspaper someone had left. Trying to concentrate on the print, Mike was pleased that the words focused easily. He got through the first four pages before his eyes tired and he decided to try again later.

As Wendy checked Mike's bandages and I.V.s, and injected the morphine, she told him later on they would be letting him walk a bit and that he could have some real food if he was up to it. Mike really was hungry, but the morphine was making him a little loopy already, and as it quickly took effect, he tried hard to keep up the conversation. It didn't work very well.

"Heyy, Wendy...I suuure would like...um, hey, how about some ca-cabbage?" he asked Wendy.

"Cabbage, Mike? Really?" She giggled.

"Ohhh, not just caabbage... I wwant... c-corned beef too. Chet m-makes the bessst." He paused for several moments, then met her eyes with a serious gaze, "Hey, yyyou know what?" he asked Wendy though a pleasant haze, "I _looove_ pain rrrelief. I f-feeel... oh, just nice. Yep, I f-feel nice."

He chuckled softly when he thought about 'pain relief' and then imagined his cat, Pain, relieving himself. "Ohh, that's f-funny," he said aloud, not realizing he was making very little sense at all by that point.

Wendy was glad he was at least in a better mood, even if the credit went to the Morphine. The nurse on shift before her had told her all about the seizures, and Mike's tears as well and it made her heart ache. She smiled and left her friend as he battled the pain meds for control, knowing he didn't stand a chance.

A short while later, Wendy met Mike's family in the hall, his mother walking slowly and stiffly, appearing many years older than she actually was. Still, a smile graced her lips as her daughter patiently helped her towards Mike's room. Wendy thought about Mike's tussle with Morphine and wryly wondered if he'd be asleep or prattling more nonsense by the time the ladies got there.

The guys at the station were unusually subdued of course. It was never quite the same 'vibe' there when one of their own was sick or injured, but Mike rarely ever took his turn in that area. Although the engine crew always desired a slow day, secretly, Johnny hoped they had at least one run to Rampart so he might be able to check in on their engineer. Five hours into their 24 hour shift, he got his wish.

In the meantime, Mike had been checked, poked, prodded, quizzed and charted before Dr. Early gave him the okay to leave the ICU for a regular room. A meal and a slow and easy walk up and down the hall to check his balance along with the absence of any additional seizures or other side effects, and Mike was good to go. Dorothy and Jeannie followed Mike and his nurse to the new room and helped get him settled in. Just the change in scenery, and having a big window in the room, helped Mike put his mood on a higher level. Despite the gloomy rain and clouds, he was determined to beat back the depressing demons trying to bring him down. If all went well, he'd be discharged in just a few more days.

Dr. Early saw Johnny and Roy strolling in and happily gave them the update on Mike. "Hey, we have a few minutes to check in on him, don't we Roy?" Johnny asked. "As long as we stay available from here, right?" After last night's seizure, Johnny was eager to have some good news to bring back to their captain, and happily, there was plenty.

Mike's heavily wrapped head now sported only a large white bandage on the side to cover the surgery site. His face was still a mass of bruising, but there were hints of yellow there as well, attesting to the ongoing healing. Mike was chatting and if Cap hadn't mentioned Mike's problems with his speech, they might not have noticed right away. It sounded merely like a slight stutter now.

"Hi, g-guys," Mike greeted when he saw them peek in. Dorothy and Jeannie had gone to get a late lunch and make a few phone calls. The morphine was beginning to wear off and although he was more clear-headed than earlier, Stoker was hoping the medics wouldn't stay too long. He knew he would get sleepy and possibly silly again, and really didn't want that witnessed by someone who wouldn't let him forget it. They were sitting in chairs to the side of the bed when Jeannie came back.

"Mighty," she addressed her brother, "we're going to wander around the gift shop for a bit; mom says she needs to keep walking. Do you need anything? How about a Hershey bar?"

Roy and John both stifled a chuckle, looked at each other with amusement, and said in tandem, "Mighty?"

Mike loved that Jeannie still called him 'Mighty', but was embarrassed that his friends had heard the nickname. He was doomed now!

"Yyeah, I-I'm 'Mighty', what o-of it?" he psuedo-snarled.

"Nothing!" Roy added quickly, putting his hands up. "Nothing at all!"

"Right, uh, 'Mighty'...uh, wait now, is Mighty your given name or your actual surname? I mean, are you Mighty-Mike or Michael Mighty?" Johnny cracked himself up and took Roy with him. Jeannie giggled and Mike blushed.

"N-neither. I-i-its a-actually, 'Mighty a-able to k-kick your asses'." he stated with a thinly veiled growl.

As Johnny was about to make another wisecrack, the HT sounded and called them away. "Take care, pal, we'll be back later..I hope!" Still chuckling, he and Roy trotted away.

Mike knew Johnny and Roy would tell everyone at the station about this and figured the time would come when he'd have to explain how he got the name "Mighty". Or, maybe he wouldn't explain and instead let it add to that smoldering Stoker-mystique. Whatever. He rolled his eyes, smiled and cozied down for another nap as Jeannie went back to the gift shop for a Hershey bar. The explanation could wait.


	12. Chapter 12

**What a Pain! – Chapter Twelve**

Dorothy and Jeannie returned, and found Mike snoozing away. Dorothy smiled at her son, and eased herself into a chair. Walking had become so difficult lately; it was really distressing. The arthritis started out gradually, but it seemed that once it took hold, it _really_ took hold. Her hips, knees, and feet hurt constantly, as did her shoulders and hands. She was so grateful to her daughter for bringing her to Michael's side. There wasn't much she could do to help him, she knew, but he insisted he was happy to have her here anyway. _"Such a handsome boy,"_ she thought, and then shook her head slightly, _"no, such a __good man__. Michael would make his father so proud." _

"What are you thinking about, Mom?" Jeannie asked, noticing the faraway look on her mother's face.

"Oh, just how much Michael reminds me of your father," Dorothy replied, wistfully. "It would have been wonderful for him to see you and your brother grow into such fine adults."

Jeannie smiled, "Yeah, I know. He was a pretty great guy; I miss him too."

And at that, Mike opened his eyes and groaned a little. Jeannie hopped up and went to his bedside, waiting to see what Mike would do next.

"Hi, Mighty," she said softly, "how do you feel?"

Mike considered the question for a moment, then said, "Ugh."

"You feel 'ugh'?" Jeannie laughed.

"Yep. Juuust...ugh," Mike replied, still struggling slightly with his speech. "Mmy head sti-ill hurts bad. My sh-shoulder feels a lllittle better; j-just stiff. Same w-with my hand." He closed his eyes again. "Je-Jeannieee," he whispered, "you don't h-h-happen to have a mirror handy, do you? I... w-want to see it."

Jeannie flinched a little at Mike's words, knowing that although he was never vain, Mike would surely be shocked by his appearance. The original lump caused by his tumble down the stairs during the fire had been replaced by a much larger bruise which had spread to his cheekbone; a result from the surgery. His left eye was still ringed in black and blue, which had developed after the hematoma had grown, and a good portion of his hair on that side had been shaved away prior to surgery. The swelling had gone down, but still lingered enough to make Mike's face obviously asymmetrical. Still, Jeannie dug out the small hand mirror she kept in her purse and gave it to him.

Studiously, Mike turned the mirror at every angle and observed his face, all the while saying nothing. The bandage still hid the surgery site, but the bruising was nothing like Mike had ever seen- splotchy and colorful. His hair had started to grow back a little, but was still just a bristly patch of fuzz. "W-wow," he breathed. "Guess th-they really diiid a nuumber on me, huh."

Jeannie leaned over and gave her brother a gentle hug. "Yeah, they kind of did, little brother. It'll get better by and by, though, I promise."

Noting the brace padding his shoulder along with his current 'look,' Mike snorted with a feeble laugh, "Hmph. U-until then I g-get to loook like Qu-Quasi-mmmodo, I guess."

Dr. Early entered Mike's room then, and, overhearing the last bits of conversation, with good humor added, "We'll have you back ringing the bells in no time, Mike." He smiled at the recuperating fireman and his family then asked, "Well, Mr. Stoker, how _are _you feeling this afternoon?"

Mike shifted uneasily in the bed, trying to ease the pressure he felt in his head at the moment. The pain meds had worn off again and he was suffering. "My head st-stilll hurts, Dr. Earrrly," he reported quietly. "How much llllonger?"

"Well, considering the type of surgery you had, Mike, it's going to take a few weeks for the pain to dissipate totally." Then, realizing it sounded as if he were dismissing Mike's very valid concerns, he added, "Ideally, I'd like to see the pain lessening each day. Do you feel like it has been getting better or worse?"

"Umm...I guess b-b-betterrr. It hurrts some all day, though, e-even with morphine," he struggled out.

Dr. Early flipped open Mike's medical chart. "Can you describe the pain? Is it sharp or dull? Is it hurting all over or more localized?"

Mike considered the questions for a moment as his eyes seemed to wander to the window. How to describe the pain? If he hadn't just looked at himself in the mirror, he might have sworn there was an iron vise squeezing his thoughts out. Maybe it was a new kind of invisible vise? The pain now was unlike any headache he'd ever had, not even like the migraines he used to suffer as a teenager, but it wasn't always this way. Sometimes the vise disappeared and was replaced by a ton of bricks squashing his brains. And then, whenever he woke, it was because of the ice pick ramming itself into the side of his head. He started to pull compulsively at the top hem of his hospital gown as if trying to pick off an invisible piece of lint.

Dr. Early waited a few seconds. "Mike? Are you okay?"

There was no immediate response and Mike's observers were becoming concerned. Within a few more seconds, he broke from his trance as reluctant tears spilled from his crystal blue eyes. "H-h-how long, Doc?" he asked with trembling lips, "How long w-will it hurrrt? I h-h-hate thi-is!" More frustrating still was that with the braced left shoulder and the bandaged right hand, he couldn't even hide his face as he released the anguished tears he was trying to keep inside.

Immediately his sister wrapped her arms carefully around his shoulders. His mother, unable to get up quickly, covered her mouth with her palm and squelched tears of her own. "Oh, Michael," she choked out.

Mike turned his head as far as he could toward his sister and buried his face in her shoulder. He didn't cry, dammit! He _never _cried; hadn't cried since his dad passed away so many years ago! Now, here he was, nearly sobbing like a child. He was thoroughly embarrassed at being so emotional and wanted nothing more than for everyone to go away.

Dr. Early had been a doctor for many years and was accustomed to emotional outbursts, even if his patients weren't. He knew Mike was ashamed and Early was determined to make sure that shame was put to rest immediately. "Look, Mike," he told his still whimpering patient, "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but I promise it will get better. You don't nee to worry about the tears so much, either, okay? Along with the seizures, this is a typical response to the surgery while your brain gets used to firing on all cylinders again. And I promise you, we _will_ get this pain under control."

Stoker sniffled and Jeannie wiped his eyes and nose. "Gah, I feel like an idiot, blubbering like that," he growled at himself, forcing a control he didn't really feel. He looked up at his sister and posed a rhetorical question: "Not so 'mighty' anymore, am I."

At his home, Sir Pain-in-the-butt perked up his ears at something only he could detect. Something was off-kilter and the cat could sense it. He jumped down from Stoker's bed and wandered though the house. He strolled over to the door in the kitchen that connected the house to the garage. That door was left ajar so Pain could go in the garage and use the litter box Johnny had reluctantly purchased. There was no way Johnny could stop by and let Pain in and out while on shift, so the catbox was a necessary evil. Fortunately, Steve Taylor, the engineer from Station 10, was a great friend of Mike's and had volunteered to feed Pain whenever Johnny wasn't able to. Keeping Mike's cat happy and his house clean were two of Johnny's modest goals while Mike was recuperating.

It seemed that using the "facilities" and munching on kitty-kibble wasn't what the cat wanted, though. He sniffed the doors and windows, mewing quietly. He jumped to the mantle in the living room and deftly stepped around the photos of friends and family Mike had on display there. The cat walked gracefully in, around, and through nine photographs, two candlesticks and a box of spare buttons, and not a single thing was dislodged from it's place.

He then jumped to the floor and was headed down the hall, when the phone rang. There was a second phone on a table there and Pain leaped up to sit next to the answering machine. The ringing sound was annoying at first, but then, the machine clicked and whirred before the outgoing message began. "Hi, this is Mike. I'm probably sleeping, and if you know me, you know why. Tell me who you are and I'll call you back. Thanks!" *beeep* There was another click, and then silence.

Pain's ears swiveled in confusion. That was the voice of his human! That was what was wrong! He missed the friendly man who let him sleep in the hammock with him and knew that something wasn't right. He looked up toward the ceiling and yowled with all his might.


	13. Chapter 13

**What a Pain! - Chapter Thirteen **

As soon as Dr. Early made the changes to Mike's meds, the nurse came in and injected the pain relief into the IV. In only a few minutes, he could feel the pain lessening, and with it, came an immediate change in his disposition. It still made him drowsy, but as the piercing pain in the left side of his face melted away, he sighed, "Ohh, that's much b-better!"

His mom and sister sneaked a grin to each other and watched as Mike relaxed into his pillows. Soon lunch would arrive and after that was physical therapy. It was quite a workout for Mike and he wasn't really looking forward to it. Everyone understood that Mike Stoker was a patient man, but even he had his limits.

A couple of hours later, Gage knocked quietly on Mike's door. "Can I come in?" he asked.

Jeannie looked up from her magazine, "Hello, Johnny! Come in, please. Mike's with the physical therapist right now, but he should be back soon. Can you wait?"

"Well, not too long, Roy's with a patient we just brought in, but, uh, I think it'll be a few minutes yet before we're released. I know we were here earlier, but since we had a little time, I thought we'd check in again. Don't know when we'll have another chance ya' know and...wait, where's your mom?"

"She's decided that she needs to keep walking, and she wanted to go it alone this time. I imagine she's somewhere in the hall, waiting for Mighty, er, I mean, Mike to be done," Jeannie blushed.

Johnny snickered upon hearing the nickname again. "How's Mike doing, anyway? Any more seizures?"

"No, no more seizures, thank heaven," Jeannie said quietly. "This surgery has made him angry, and just...very emotional. He's not liking it one bit. I think another seizure would, well, I think you can imagine what that would do to him."

Johnny looked down at his boots and scuffed the toe of one with the sole of the other. "Yeah…I can imagine." As he looked over at the scores of get-well cards and flowers, he remembered something. "Oh, hey, I have pictures for Mike, but I think I'll give them to him later...when he's at home again."

"That's very nice of you, John." Jeannie walked over to look out the window at the still-misty sky. "You know... Mike's determined to get back to his job; it means the world to him."

Gage acknowledged her statement with a short grunt. "Yeah, it's pretty important to all of us."

The door opened and Mike walked in on his own with the help of a single crutch to keep his balance. He smiled at the sight of Johnny chatting with Jeannie.

"Hey, you t-two," he greeted, "J-Johnny, how long have you b-been here? Wh-where's Roy?"

"I just got here a few minutes ago; Roy's with a patient we just brought in," Johnny answered. "Just thought I'd run up here and check in on ya' again. You're looking good, how're you feeling?"

"W-well, I'll be rrreal honest, I'm n-not finding the after-effects of th-this to be very e-enjoyable. But, I-I'm sure I'll b-be okay," Mike told his friend.

Johnny's eyes went back to the door as it opened. Roy stuck his head in, smiled at Mike, and announced, "Hey, Mike! Good to see you up and around! Johnny? Hey, we gotta go; got another run!"

"Holy cow! Alright. Well, we better git! See you guys later," Johnny said brightly as they left in a rush.

As John and Roy dashed out, Mike stared after them and heaved a sigh. He had only been down for the count for four days, but it seemed like a hundred. He missed the Fire Department already. He'd had only had two part-time jobs as a teenager before finding his passion in firefighting. He couldn't even begin to imagine what else he'd do. Jeannie noticed Mike's face clouding over and knew without asking what was going through his head.

"Mighty...you'll be back with them, you know. This isn't going to keep you down."

He let out a breathy laugh, "Yeah, I kn-know. I just felt my ad-adren-aline ramp up...when th-they had to leave. I miss that part...I mmmiss the ex-cite-ment already."

"Well, listen. I, being the big sister here, _and _having infinite wisdom, can tell your speech is getting better. Plus, you've already proven that you can walk without tilting too much anymore." She looked him in the eyes, "The stitches in your hand will be removed in a week or so, and you're doing really well with the physical therapy. I'd say you're making huge strides for a guy who had surgery just three days ago."

Mike grinned at Jeannie, "Hey, c'mere," he said, holding out his hand. She approached him and took his bandaged hand in hers. "I really ap-preciate everything you're d-doing. You're not ssso bad for a big sis-sister."

"Aw, shucks, Mighty, you're pretty great yourself," she said, giving her "little" brother a half-strength noogie. They were still laughing when their mother eased her way back into the room. She smiled at the sight of her two children clowning around.

"Some things never change, I suppose," she said with mock annoyance.

"Hi,Mom!" They greeted simultaneously.

Dorothy walked over to give her son a kiss. "Michael, I'm so glad to see that smile again," she said, patting his hand.

Turning to her daughter she said, "Jeannie, that walk just about did me in for the day. Would you mind bringing me back to the hotel?"

"Mom? You o-okay?" Mike asked, becoming concerned. It wasn't like Dorothy to want to leave early.

"Of course I am, Michael. I just walked so much this afternoon; I'm really tired," she reassured him.

Unconvinced, Mike answered, "Okay. M-maybe I'll t-take a nap too, then. I guess it'll be d-dinner prrretty soon anyway. Y-you'll be back i-in the morning?"

"You bet, little bro, we'll be back," Jeannie told him.

Dorothy kissed him again and gathered her purse and book as Jeannie collected the other things she'd brought along to pass the time. With a final hug, Mike's family left. He sat down, watching as the door slowly closed on its hinges. Man, how he wished they could be around all the time.

Steve Taylor took the key to Mike's house and went in to feed Sir Pain. The house was predictably quiet and he uttered a soft, "Heeeere, kitty, kitty."

Sir Pain looked toward the door, recognizing the voice calling him. Pain accepted all the people who came to help, but he was Johnny's pal, that was for sure. The cat-caretaker du jour always filled the kitty dishes and cleaned out the litter box, and now and then stooped over to pat the little gray cat on the head before departing. Johnny, on the other hand, made time to drag a string around for Sir Pain to chase and sometimes tossed the mousie toy that had somehow appeared.

Johnny didn't feel he had to stay all night anymore, now that Sir Pain had a litter box, but he decided he would still come and take care of the lawn and animals. The next morning, he ran a few errands after work, then headed once again to Mike's house.

Johnny made sure Sir Pain got to go outside on nice days and would often bring lunch or dinner in and watch Mike's big TV for awhile. Pain liked this time immensely as Johnny always shared the tuna or ham from his sandwiches or the cheese from the pizza. Johnny relished the silence that Mike's house provided, since his apartment building was always bustling with people and noise. More than once, Gage would relax enough in Mike's house to fall asleep, and no matter if it was the brown tweed chair, the dark green sofa or outside in the hammock, there was always Sir Pain there to keep him company.

The next morning after shift, Johnny picked up the photos from the developer, and grinned as he looked through them. There were a dozen from his last camping trip, four or five of the DeSoto kids, two with him and a date whose name he couldn't recall, and five of Sir Pain. Johnny decided that rather than bring them to the hospital, he'd put them up in Mike's house. He bought some small frames and arranged the photos on the mantle, tucking them in alongside the ones Mike had of his own family and friends.

It was another week before Dr. Early told Mike he was allowed to go home, and for the first three weeks, he was not to be alone for more than two hours at a time. Mike hadn't had any more seizures, but he was still on painkillers, so there would be no returning to work just yet. Dr. Early also insisted that part of Mike's days be spent in total quiet with no distractions such as the radio or television, and that his vitals be monitored four times a day. His mom and sister were due to leave in two days, and Stoker was understandably worried about how things would go.

Jeannie brought Mike home and as he walked in, the first thing Mike did was call out, "Kitty? H-here, k-kitty." Sir Pain-in-the-butt darted in from the garage and trotted into the living room. Mike sat down and offered his hand. The cat sniffed it cautiously, then, realizing his favorite human had returned at last, hopped up in Stoker's lap and purred with every bit he had in him. Mike smiled and closed his eyes, welcoming the peaceful sound.

Naturally, the guys of 51 volunteered to stay a day each when they were off shift, but that still left the other times when they all had to work. Mike wasn't the type to ask for help out of turn, and so resigned himself to finding someone to stay with him. Before he had a chance to call in the home-health nurses, however, his neighbors, Jerry and Edna Shears, and their son Paul, along with Mary and Gus, the folks who lived in the bungalow behind him, were ready to help. Each morning, one of the women would meet him at his door with casseroles, cookies and cat treats, and stay during the day. Each night one of the men would help Mike with his shower if he needed it, and then stay the night. Turns out, living on a block inhabited mainly by retirees had its advantages!

It seemed Johnny had taught the cat a few tricks while Mike was gone and Sir Pain-in-the-butt had become something of a celebrity in the neighborhood. The cat had charmed his way into the neighbors' hearts by begging for kitty-treats and by riding around on Johnny's shoulder when the man worked outside. It wasn't difficult to find someone to help when everyone wanted to visit with the cat as much as with Mike.

Two days after he came home, Dorothy and Jeannie bade Mike a tearful goodbye as they headed to their own homes once again, promising to return just as soon as they could. Their departure seemed to extinguish the spark that Mike had acquired since being sprung from Rampart. Between visits, he stretched out on the sofa and sunk into an uneasy sleep.

An hour and a half later he was awakened by the doorbell. He scrambled to his feet and stumped over to the door. As he peeked through the curtains, he saw Officer Frank Belton standing there.


	14. Chapter 14

**What a Pain! – Chapter Fourteen**

To say Mike was surprised to see Frank Belton was an understatement. _"Wonder what he wants,_" he thought. He released his grip on the drapes and hobbled over to open the door.

"Hi, F-frank. What can I do for y-you?"

The police officer nodded, barely noticing the fading stutter that Mike still struggled with. "Mike. Nice to see you up and around again. What's with the crutch, did you hurt your leg too?"

"Nah," Mike replied, "I'm still a l-little shaky on m-my feet from the head injury. It just helps m-me keeep my bal-ance."

"I see," Belton said, "Hey, um, can I come in for a minute?"

"Sure, sure y-you can." Mike stepped carefully out of the way and let Belton enter. "H-have a seat."

Mike motioned toward the chair in the living room and followed Belton. He gingerly let himself down on the sofa with a grunt, mindful of his still-braced shoulder.

"So, th-this doesn't sound l-like a soc-social call. Some-thing wrong?" Mike inquired of the officer.

"Mike, I have some news for you that I'm pretty sure you don't want to hear," Frank said soberly, "and it has to do with the fire."

Stoker's eyes widened in surprise. "Yeah? What's g-going on?"

"Well, first I should ask you, have you recalled anything else from the fire before you fell down the stairs? I should say, do you have any more recollection of the men who pushed you?"

Mike shook his head as his mind began to wander back to the day he was injured. His short-term memory hadn't been affected by the head injury as much as it could have been, but try as he might, no further details came to him...yet.

"No. It a-all happened prrretty fast. One m-minute I was heading up the stairs and the next, two g-guys came charg-ing down at me and sh-shoved me out of their way." He frowned, "I th-think one of them e-even stepped on me after I fell." He sucked in a short breath, "Wait..." Mike squinted as he concentrated, then placed his head in his hand. "Th-they were wearing shorts and um, one haaad on a green shirt." He looked up again, and sighed, "That's all I can re-memm-ber, I'm sorry."

Belton made a disappointed face, "Okay. Well, in that case, I'll proceed. After the fire was extinguished and the crew was doing clean-up, a body was discovered in the closet in the upstairs bedroom. It was a man, about thirty-five or so, wrapped in a tarp. He'd been shot in the head...murdered. We've been chasing leads ever since the fire and last night, we found one of the guys involved. He's admitted to being there, but swears the other guy pulled the trigger. Problem is, he says he doesn't know where the other guy is, and he told us that his buddy's been hiding out because he thinks you can identify him."

"Aw, sh-shit, Frank. What are you saying; that th-this dude mmmight be looking for me?" Stoker let out a breath as he tentatively ran a hand over the bandage on the side of his head.

"Well, yeah, maybe. We haven't located him yet, and the other guy said he thinks his pal skipped town, but he's not for sure. Therefore, we aren't sure either, ya' know?"

Mike whispered, "So...the fire w-was in-tention-al? To hide the b-body? That must have b-been the popping sound I heard." He was startled by the memory of that sound and his eyes met Belton's.

"Yeah, that was probably it." Belton agreed.

"Yeah...I just...I r-remem-ber hearing a sssound before I went in the house. I, uh, already s-saw the smoke, but I figured the pop was some-thing catching fire."

"Yeah, well, I wish that _was_ all there was to it. There's more, Mike. It seems this guy, Eddie Jordan is his name, is a suspect in more than one of these incidents. In fact, we think he's killed four other people, and one of them was a cop. He's got some gun running thing going on and he's determined to not get caught," Belton grimly reported. "I'll tell you, this Jordan guy's a real bad one."

Sir Pain strolled in and hopped up on the sofa and head-butted his way into Mike's lap. Mike leaned back against the sofa and allowed the cat to have his spot. He stroked the cat's head absently, as he thought about what the police officer had just told him. As if he didn't have enough to worry about! His head swam with the thought of some creep "out there" looking for him, more than likely wanting to kill him. His heart started to race and he was beginning to feel nauseated. "F-frank?" Mike gasped, "Uh, c-could you hel-p me up?"

"Sure, Mike, lemme give you a hand." Mike gently shoved Sir Pain off his lap as Belton assisted Stoker to his feet. He watched as Mike made his way quickly to the bathroom, his crutch thumping on the floor. The door closed and shortly after, the sounds of retching were heard. Belton hung his head sadly; this was not going well. He heard the doorbell ring and turned in time to see Captain Stanley let himself in.

"Stoker? I'm here for the night," Hank called out. He was surprised to see Officer Belton standing in the hall. "Hello, Frank, why are you here? Everything okay?"

Belton shook his head 'no' and rehashed the whole sordid tale to Mike's captain.

Hank whooshed out a breath. "Aw, geez. He sure as hell doesn't need this." I'll go check on him.

Stanley walked with some trepidation toward the bathroom, and knocked lightly on the oak door. "Mike? It's Hank. You okay in there?"

Inside, Mike was sitting on the floor, his head in his hands. He was sweaty and nauseous and...scared. "Ugh, oh, C-cap. I, uh, I'm o-okay. I'll...be out in a mmminute."

Sir Pain sauntered up behind Captain Stanley and sat regally beside the door. He neither purred nor even seemed to acknowledge Hank whatsoever. Sir Pain knew where his favorite human was, and would simply sit and wait for him to exit that room.

Cap wiggled the doorknob and realized it wasn't locked. "Michael? I'm going to come in."

Upon entering, he knelt down at Mike's side. "Mike? Hey, you okay? How about we get you into the living room, eh?" he said, gently.

Mike nodded. "Y-yeah, thanks Cap." He weakly held up his hand and Hank pulled him to his feet. Pausing long enough to rinse his mouth of the foul taste, Mike then grabbed his crutch and hobbled slowly to the living room with Hank on his other side, assisting.

Once he was back resting on the sofa, Hank asked, "Mike, should I call Dr. Early?"

"Nnno, Cap, I'll b-be okay, don't c-call Dr. Ear-early," he pleaded. "I...I just got a li-little shook up."

"Okay, but let me take your pulse and BP. I was going to do it anyway, let's just take it now," Hank reasoned.

Mike complied, and Hank took the BP cuff and began. "Looks okay, Mike. A little high maybe, but considering the circumstances, I don't think we need to worry," he said calmly. He proceeded to write everything down on the paper that was used to log Mike's readings each day. "Why don't you lie down Mike, and I'll get you something to drink."

"Y-yeah, okay Cap, thanks," Mike whispered. He wasn't in the mood for any more chat and closed his eyes. The headache that was in the background all day was moving to the forefront and he needed to sleep.

"Listen, Mike," Belton told him, "I'm going back to the police station and see if we can arrange a watch for your house. Obviously, we don't want this to cause any more strain than absolutely necessary. I'll make sure a car drives past several times a night. If I hear any word that Jordan's back in town, we'll have a car posted in front of the house 24/7."

Mike nodded numbly and closed his eyes. "Thanks, Frank," he mumbled.

"I'll see you out," Cap told Belton and got up to walk him to the door.

When he returned, it appeared to Cap that Stoker was sleeping, a grimace on his face. As Hank sat down in the chair, Mike stirred a little, opened his eyes halfway and looked wearily at his captain.

"At least Mom and J-Jeannie are g-gone."

"Yeah," Hank agreed quietly. He couldn't imagine how Mike was feeling right then. It was incredibly unfair that Mike would have done what he did thinking he would be helping someone, only to have one of those people try to hurt Mike in return. At least he wouldn't have to worry about his mother and sister being nearby should something actually happen.

He pulled the blanket up to Mike's chest, patted him on the shoulder and allowed him to rest. He watched as Sir Pain crept slowly across the back of the sofa and stepped down to rest on the top of the pillows behind Mike's head. The man sighed, reached up to pet the cat, and smiled as he fell asleep.

The fire captain sat and watched, mulling over the newest development. _"What on earth has happened? This situation has gone from the frying pan right into the fire. They have __got__ to find this Jordan guy before something else happens; Mike shouldn't have to pay any more for doing the right thing," _he thought as he watched his friend sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

**What a Pain! -Chapter Fifteen**

By the time the sun was nearly setting in Carson, Mike was still sleeping on the sofa, albeit restlessly. Cap had made dinner for the both of them by warming up one of the many dishes that were in the fridge, lovingly placed there by several well-meaning neighbors.

This one appeared to be something with mushrooms and rice and some sort of white meat. He picked through it suspiciously, and hoped the meat was chicken. Whatever it was didn't seem to matter to Sir Pain, as he happily gobbled up everything Hank tossed to him from the table.

Aside from the cat, however, Hank ate alone, as he didn't feel Mike needed to be awakened just yet. The shock of hearing a killer may be looking for _you_ would be enough to send anyone into a panic and he could tell that's what it did to his engineer. Cap understood that emotions still ran high with Stoker and might yet for a while until he was totally healed, and according to Dr. Early, Mike needed to keep as calm as possible.

"_Ha. Fat chance of __that__ now!_" Cap thought, disgustedly. _"All it takes is some nut-job thinking he can do whatever he wants, and innocent people are caught in the middle."_ Hank sighed...he would never understand some people.

With his friend asleep in the living room, Hank was bored. The TV would be too loud, as would talking on the phone, and he'd already read three chapters in the rather uninteresting book he'd brought along. He almost wished he had a crocheting project like his wife always seemed to have handy. He'd been the recipient of many a pair of slippers and their kitchen had far more than its fair share of pot-holders his wife had made, all in the name of staving off boredom. He stood at the picture window and stared out at the street. What if the murderer _was_ still in Carson? What if he was actually watching Mike's house at this very minute? Hank shuddered, turned around, and closed the drapes again. "_This is ridiculous. No sense in getting wound up over nothing,"_ he admonished himself silently.

There came a soft "Ugh" from the sofa, and Cap saw Mike trying to sit up. He'd been sleeping for over three hours and Cap figured he could guess why Mike was awake now.

"Need some help, pal?" Cap asked.

"Uh, oh, hi, C-cap," Mike yawned. "I forgot you w-were here." He rubbed his eyes and stretched his good shoulder while holding on to the injured one. Sir Pain-in-the-Butt jumped down to the floor and padded out to the garage to take care of his own needs. "I c-can get up, Cap," Mike told him, "I just gotta t-take a leak. Hand mmme the crutch?"

"Sure, pal, here ya' go." Hank handed the crutch to Mike and watched as the man went down the hall towards the bathroom. When he finished, Mike stood to the side of the room, attempting to avoid the mirror. Try as he might, though, Mike couldn't seem to _not_ look at himself. Each time he did, he examined the wound made by the surgery, tapped around on the fading bruises and ran a finger over the bristly patch of regrowing hair. It was getting better, but the sight of it still made him wince. Sighing, he washed up and left the bathroom.

When he returned, Cap said, "Hey, how about we take your vitals again, and then I'll warm up some more of that, uh, that..._dinner_ I had tonight. I bet you're hungry."

"Dinner?" Mike asked, "Wh-what did y-you have?"

Cap mumbled something that sounded like 'Idaho' and Mike raised a single eyebrow and looked quizzically at his Captain.

"Idaho? As in p-potatoes?"

"Uh, no, I said, uh...'I don't know.'"

"You d-don't _know_ what you a-ate?" Mike snorted a laugh.

"Welll, it was some kind of casserole from Mary and it was rice with, um, _something_ else and I think maybe chicken was in there too," Cap said, defensively. "Anyway, it was pretty good... Pain liked it too."

"Alright, I'll h-have some," Mike laughed as they made their way to the kitchen.

Mike sat in a kitchen chair and watched as Hank popped the still warm casserole dish from the oven. Soon, there was a plateful of the 'dinner' in front of Mike along with a tall glass of milk.

"Here," Cap said as he pulled a chair up to Mike's side, "let me check your BP and such first."

"Yeah, okay," Mike answered, not terribly enthused.

The BP cuff hissed as it deflated and Cap placed his fingers on Mike's wrist to check his pulse. Both were excellent.

"Nice, Mike. Everything looks good. You belly up to the table here and I'll go write these down."

When the Captain returned, he noticed Mike staring off, seemingly unaware of his presence. "Mike?" he asked softly, "Hey...you in there?"

"Huh? Oh...yeah. Sorry, Cap. I was just thinking," Mike replied.

"I'll bet." Hank moved to sit down next to Mike, and nervously rearranged the salt and pepper shakers and napkins , trying to keep his hands occupied. "Look, uh, I know this nutter has you shook up, Mike, but, they'll get him. You'll be okay, you know? Nothing to worry about."

Mike nodded and picked up the fork to dig in. It had been over two weeks since he was hurt and the whole lingering situation was wearing on him. His headache was still present, and his shoulder was still sore, but at least he could use his right hand again now that the stitches had been removed. Glancing at the reddened scar that lined his palm, he instinctively flexed his hand and watched as the tight, tender skin stretched and whitened with each movement. _"Wonder if that'll ever go away,"_ he mused to himself. Shaking his head slightly to dismiss the thoughts, he gripped the fork again and lifted a bite to his mouth. Surprisingly, the mystery casserole seemed quite tasty and Mike debated whether it really was well made or if he was just simply famished. "_Doesn't matter,_" he thought as he ate. _"I need to eat and this is as good as anything."_

Cap then brought Mike's pain pills and other meds out and put them by his plate.

"Don't forget these, Michael," he reminded.

"B-believe me, I won't," Mike answered, flatly. "I really am tired of th-the 24-hour head-aaache thing."

Now that there had been no additional seizures since before he was released from Rampart, he was being weaned off the anti-seizure medication. With luck, he'd soon be off them for good. He downed the pain killers and the antibiotics with the last of the milk and went to rummage around in his cabinets for something sweet. He found the pop-tarts and the other less-than-nutritious food Johnny had bought, and smiled when he finally came across the Oreos.

"Oh, yeah!" he smiled, as he took a butter knife and stabbed open the package. He refilled his glass of milk and sat back down, with six Oreos waiting to be dunked. Stoker was clearly happy with his choice of dessert.

Cap stared at Stoker and was bemused with his uncharacteristic behavior. He waited until Mike noticed him staring.

"Oh, uh, s-sorry, Cap," Mike said, munching happily, "Here, have a c-couple."

"Don't mind if I do, Mike, don't mind if I do," Hank said, smiling. He poured a tall glass of milk for himself and removed several cookies from the package.

Just as both men had a mouthful of cookies, they heard Sir Pain's blood-curdling screech and a tremendous crash from the garage. Startled, Mike nearly choked on his milk, and Cap swiftly jumped from his seat and ran to the garage door. He was nearly bowled over by an obviously panicked Sir Pain skittering in. The cat's eyes were wide and his fur completely fuzzed up as he flashed across the floor and into the living room. The cat was running much too fast for either Mike or Cap to see where he went, so Cap flipped on the light-switch and peered inside the attached garage. A small shelf near the door leading to the backyard had fallen and everything it held had crashed to the floor. There had been an almost-empty paint can, several brushes, a coffee-can that held dozens of nuts, bolts and screws and a one-pound bag of birdseed up there. Luckily, it looked like at least the paint can had kept its lid on, but everything else was scattered all over the floor.

"Aw, cat!" Mike snarled. "How did he even ma-manage to get up to that sh-shelf in the first place?"

Cap pulled back on Mike's arm and steered him back to the kitchen table.

"Don't worry, Mike, it's okay. We'll take care of it in the morning," he assured him. "Let's get back to the cookies, eh?"

Mike shook his head, muttering about the mess, as he trudged slowly back to the kitchen table. While the two friends finished their snack, Sir Pain was under the sofa, growling softly. He had been scared badly and he wasn't at all happy about it. When Cap and Mike retired to the living room, all that could be seen of the cat was a partially exposed tail flicking angrily from his hiding spot.

Mike and Hank relaxed and had been watching TV for nearly a half-hour before Sir Pain decided to emerge. Mike coaxed the cat up to his lap and began to pet his feline friend. Stoker then stretched his legs out on the sofa and Cap pulled the lever on the recliner to lift his own feet up. With the television murmuring in the background and Sir Pain purring gently, it didn't take long for all three of them to succumb to sleep once again.

Down the block, the policemen assigned to patrol Mike's street were talking with two policemen in another car who had been patrolling one block over. A bulletin had come across the radio and the four men were discussing it excitedly. Neither they nor the cat, nor the dozing firemen noticed the dark figure slithering over Mike's backyard fence and down the street.


	16. Chapter 16

**What A Pain! – Chapter Sixteen**

It was getting quite late, but Mike and Hank had been napping for some time that evening, and so found themselves wide awake at 11pm. The old brown recliner creaked as Hank put the foot rest down and Sir Pain's ears perked up yet again.

Mike now sat up on the sofa; Sir Pain on his lap. "So...uh, I'm n-not very t-tired now, Cap. How about y-you?" Hearing himself speak again, Mike frowned and furrowed his brow.

"Somethin' wrong, Mike?" Cap asked.

"Nah, it's j-just...well, it's kiiind of fun-ny," Mike confessed, "ev-er-y time I wake up, I guess...I e-expect t-to be able to sp-speak normal-ly again." He paused, "I'm al-ways surprised wh-when I can't. I'm rrreally get-ting tired of i-it."

Cap pursed his lips in agreement. "Well, Mike, I won't tell you to be patient, because you've already been more patient than I think _I_ would have been. But...just uh, hang in there a little longer, eh? You'll get there."

"Yeah, I kn-know. I will, Cap...th-thanks," Mike said, resigning himself to this new life for at least a little while yet. Taking a deep breath, and using the crutch to stand up, Mike decided he didn't want to sleep again; at least not for a while.

Cap stretched, yawned and shook his head to wake up a little more. "Michael, I needed that nap, but boy, now I wish I hadn't taken it. It's late and I'm not tired anymore. Won't be long and TV will be over for the night. Then he smiled slyly, "I kind of wish we had a few more of the guys here; we could play some poker."

Mike laughed, "Yeah...poker. I lllove playin' c-cards with Chet. I beat him ev-ever-y-time."

"_That,_ Michael, is because _you _know how to keep your 'poker-face' on. Chet gives himself away every time," Cap snickered.

"Yeah, f-for a guy ssso full of hot air, Ch-chet's a l-lousy liar," Mike smiled. He thought for minute and then said, "Hey, Cap, um, would you mmmind helping me clean up Pain's mmmess in the ga-rage this l-late?"

Cap smiled, "Oh, I suppose I could do that... I'd like to be paid in Oreos, though."

"Nnnot a problem, Cap," the engineer laughed, "Th-thanks."

Mike rolled Sir Pain off his lap and the cat sat there on the sofa cushion, eyes wide and tail swishing. He had perched like a fuzzy gargoyle on Mike's chest while the man slept, but Sir Pain himself hadn't dozed much at all. The garage incident had put the cat on high alert, and he was waiting for...something.

Hank stepped out of the kitchen door leading to the garage, onto the concrete step, and made a low whistle.

"Whoa. Your cat did a great job redecorating, Mike. Where do you want to begin?"

"Well, i-it looks lllike there's stuff all ov-ver the f-floor. Could you b-back out my trrruck and I can sweep up un-der it?"

Cap looked again at the mess and shook his head in disbelief. "Whew. Hey, are you sure you can sweep? How about you just pick up what you can get and let me do the sweeping. You're still a little unsteady, I think."

Mike was prepared to disagree, but instead he leaned on the crutch and fought off the slight feeling of lightheadedness he suddenly had. He closed his eyes; his argument was moot and he knew it. "Ok...you w-win," he sighed.

While Cap opened the big garage door, Mike went in to fetch his keys. Sir Pain took that opportunity to check out the garage again...maybe. He stuck his nose through the opened side door for a few seconds and sniffed. He placed a paw down on the concrete step, then drew it back. He dipped his head under the door and looked around. Standing behind him, Mike watched his cat considering whether to go out, and was amused with Pain's decision-making skills. Mike encouraged Pain's choice by giving the cat a soft boot to the backside, and the cat finally scooted out the door and into the garage.

Mike grabbed the straw broom and copper-colored dustpan from the utility cabinet and handed them to Cap. "H-here ya' go, Cap. H-have at it."

Mike looked out through the garage door at the street, and noticed the police car driving slowly past. He assumed that was the car assigned to patrol his block and sighed. This was getting to be too much. He was about to turn around when, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of another patrol car. It too was driving slowly down the street, but in the opposite direction. "Hmmm, th-that's strrrange," he mumbled.

"Huh? What's strange?" Cap asked him, turning around and leaning on the broom stick.

"Th-there's two p-po-lice cars now. Frrank said on-ly one," Mike mused. They watched as the cars stopped beside each other in the middle of the street. Cap and Mike could both hear the police officers talking, but couldn't decipher the topic of conversation. They looked at each other in surprise when they saw one of the officers turn his head and point toward Mike's house.

"W-what was th-that was ab-bout?" Mike wondered aloud.

"Beats me, Mike. You should give Frank a call in the morning and ask him, I guess." Cap turned back to his job of sweeping the garage floor. Each time he filled the dustpan, he'd hand it over to Mike who would dump the contents in the black trash bag. Sir Pain sat on the wooden workbench and observed the process. Mike placed a full dustpan on the workbench and picked through the dirt and birdseed to retrieve all the bolts, screws, and nails that had rained down from the fallen shelf. He turned to snarl at Sir Pain.

"Th-this iiis all _your_ fault, y-you know," he told the cat. The cat didn't care.

Every few seconds, Pain would lower his head a bit and sniff, catching the scent of something unfamiliar. Without warning, he leaped from the bench and crept slowly across the floor, as if stalking prey, to the door leading to the backyard, sniffing the entire way.

Mike shook his head, "W-would you loook at that th-thing?" he asked Cap. "What's he do-ing?"

"I dunno," Cap said, scratching his head, "maybe he hears a mouse?"

Sir Pain began clawing at the bottom of the door to the yard, clearly wanting to be let out.

"J-just for a l-litt-le while, Pain, i-its going to r-rain again," Mike told his cat.

Mike opened the door and flipped on the backyard light above the door. Looking down, he saw a good portion of mud smeared on the concrete pad.

"That's strrrange," he said. "I know i-its been rain-y the p-past few days, but n-nobody's been in th-the back y-yard since I've been h-home. Wh-where did this mud c-come from?"

"I know John has let Pain out in the backyard when he comes over, maybe the cat did it?"

"Nah, t-too mmmuch for a c-cat to make," Mike murmured. He turned and retrieved the blue flashlight he kept on the workbench and walked out the door into the yard, shining the beam back and forth on the ground in front as he went. There was mud on the concrete, but it disappeared into the lawn, becoming slightly squishy indents in the grass. Mike gasped with realization.

"Cap!" Mike called loudly in a strangled voice, "Cap! C-come he-here!"

Dropping the broom, Hank rushed outside to find his engineer breathing fast and trembling.

Mike turned, wide-eyed to his Captain. "He's be-been h-here, Cap!" he choked out. "Oh, God, J-J-Jordan's been h-here!" Mike dropped the flashlight and nearly fell to his knees. Cap, looking around, noticed a lawn chair folded up beside the house. He popped it open and guided Mike into it.

"Mike? Mike, c'mon, calm down," Cap encouraged, "take slow, deep breaths...look at me, Mike...that's it, follow me...in...out...in...out..."

Mike nodded weakly and tried to ease his breathing, but it wasn't working. Nor did his body seem to want to obey his brain's commands. He started to feel sweaty and nauseated again, his tongue went dry and his teeth tingled. He felt sure he was going to faint, but Cap had turned on the garden hose and soaked his handkerchief in the cool water, placing the wet cloth on the back of Mike's neck.

"Keep breathing, Mike...nice and slow...that's it..."

Mike had finally worked past feeling like he was going to pass out as Cap gently placed his hands on Mike's forearms and repeated the calming words. When Mike had regained most of his composure, Cap helped him back to his feet.

"You okay now, pal?" Cap inquired. "You want to show me what you saw?"

Again, Mike nodded numbly. "Yeah, wh-where's the f-flash-l-light?"

Hank picked it up and handed it to Mike who shined it back at the muddy concrete pad. "L-look, Cap," he said. "See th-this?"

"Yeah, I see it. It's just mud," Cap answered, slightly confused.

"C-cap, it's frresh...still soft. N-now look." Cap followed the beam of light as Mike directed it from the mud to the lawn. Cap could see the indentations in the grass and noticed how they made a path to the fence. Then, as the beam moved to the fence itself, Cap could clearly see what had frightened his friend.

There, on the fence boards, were several large muddy streaks. _Someone_ had climbed the fence to get in and out of the yard.

"Oh, damn," Cap whispered. "Michael, let's get in the house; I'm going to call the police."

Still shaky, Mike held on to Cap's arm and went back through the garage and into the kitchen. He slumped into a chair and lay his head on the table. Cap picked up the phone to make a few calls: one to the police, the others to his crew.


	17. Chapter 17

**What a Pain! – Chapter Seventeen**

Cap paced the kitchen floor, nearly tangling himself in the phone cord, impatiently waiting for a response from the other end. He kept a wary eye on Mike, who still sat at the table, his head resting on his folded arms. Every now and then, Mike would release a shuddering breath, but aside from that, he made no sound.

The first call Cap made was to the police and as they waited, he decided to take Mike's vitals again. As he released the pressure on the BP cuff, he said, "Hmm, Mike they're both reading kinda' high right now, even considering the scare we've had. I'm going to take them again after the police officers leave and if they're still high, I'm either callin' Dr. Early or we're goin' to Rampart."

"Okay," Mike mumbled in defeat and lay his head back down.

In a few minutes, two of the officers who had patrolled the street were at the front door. Hank let them in and led the way to the kitchen.

"Mr. Stoker?" one introduced himself, "I'm Officer Blake, this is Officer Piper. Are you feeling okay enough to tell us what happened tonight?"

Mike lifted his head and the officers could see that whatever had occurred had taken its toll on the man. Mike's face was red and blotchy, his mouth wore a forlorn frown, and his eyes had a clouded look. It was now nearly 1:00 a.m. and Stoker felt like he had just been pummeled. He nodded and motioned toward the garage door. Sir Pain came out from under the kitchen table and began sniffing at the officers' shoes. Officer Piper leaned down to pet Sir Pain, but the cat shied away from the officer's hand, refusing the affection.

"Y-yeah, I can," Mike whispered, then cleared his throat. "C'mon, I'll sh-show you." Wearily, Stoker stood up and leaned on the crutch for a few seconds. His expression never changed as he led the officers through the door and into the garage. The policemen were aware of the reason they had been assigned to patrol that street, and they cast a wondering eye toward each other. Although Officer Piper was relatively new to the force, Blake had been a police officer for more than a dozen years and had seen more than his share of panicked people. He genuinely hoped this would be a case of Stoker's overactive imagination, but somehow, he already knew it wasn't.

Sir Pain followed the men to the garage and leaped to the workbench to observe the goings-on, staring intently at the officers. He had calmed down since the garage incident, but now seemed on alert again. The fur on his back was raised, his tail swished urgently and now and then he would emit a short, low growl. Cap patted Sir Pain on the head as he walked past, "Calm down, pal. You're alright."

Mike sighed dejectedly, took up the flashlight and entered the backyard. "Here's th-the fresh mud I first s-saw," he told them, "and h-here, you can sssee where his footprints went through th-the lawn." He shined the light across the grass and then to the fence boards. "Then I s-saw the mud streaks on the f-fence." Mike paused then said quietly, "Nnno one has been out h-here since I've b-been home from the hos-pit-al...except mmmy cat."

Blake took as many photos as he could in the dark, and Officer Piper wrote down all that Mike told them.

"Let's go inside for a moment, Mr. Stoker," Officer Blake told him. "I'd like to go around to the front of the house."

The four men and the cat filed into the kitchen and slowly walked through the living room to the front door. With his foot, Mike blocked Sir Pain from exiting. "Nnno, Pain. You stay h-here."

Sir Pain jumped to the windowsill and watched the men take their lights to the side of the fence, looking for more footprints. As the grass was still damp, it was easy to see where the blades had been bent over with the weight of a foot, and several prints were found leading up to the fence where _someone_ had scaled the side. When the policemen were finished, they walked back into the house. Officer Piper had wandered back through the kitchen and into the garage once more, and Sir Pain followed him. Piper nosed around the workbench, then walked back out to the yard, shining a flashlight around again. Sir Pain cocked his head sideways and flicked his ears, wondering what this human was doing.

Standing in the foyer with Cap and Mike, Officer Blake said, "Mr. Stoker, is there somewhere you can go for a while, or will you be having someone stay with you? Until we're certain who we're dealing with here, we'd prefer you not to be alone."

"_I'm_ staying here tonight," Cap quickly interjected. "He's recovering from a serious head injury and isn't to be alone for more than two hours anyway."

"Hm, well, that's good to know, Captain Stanley, but I might suggest that you ignore that 'two hours rule' and make sure there's always at least two people in the house at all times," Blake replied.

Mike looked down at his sock-covered feet, now damp from the lawn, and said, "Cap, you d-don't have to st-stay. I don't w-want you to b-be in danger, too."

"Right, Stoker," Hank grimaced, "forget it. I'm not going to turn tail and run from this creep. Officer Blake, you can be sure that there will always be someone here with my engi, uh, with Mr. Stoker."

"That's fine, Captain, thanks. Mr. Stoker?" Officer Blake leaned forward to shake hands, "we'll be in touch." Noticing the other officer wasn't around, he called out, "Piper? C'mon, we gotta get going."

"Yeah, I'm comin', Blake." Piper walked briskly back to the foyer, "Sorry, I, uh, forgot where I laid my pen. 'Night, Mr. Stoker, Captain Stanley."

When the officers left, Mike sat down on the sofa and hung his head down between his legs. Sir Pain wandered over to join him, leaping up and crawling behind him to rub up against Mike's back. Cap sat down beside him. "Stoker...if this really was Eddie Jordan, you're going to have to go somewhere else to stay. You know that, right?"

Mike shook his head. "I...c-can't, Cap. What would I t-tell Jeannie and my mmmom? Mom's already worried s-sick about me. I-if I tell her s-some guy is tryin' to k-kill me, she'll fall a-part." Then he pounded his fist on the arm of the sofa. "Dammit, Cap! I d-don't even know th-this guy! I c-couldn't pick him out if you paid mmme to!"

"I know, Mike. I'm real sorry this jerk is doing this to you," Cap consoled. "I do think I should check your blood pressure again, Mike. You wanna lean back a little here? I'll go get the stuff and be right back."

Mike closed his eyes and leaned back against the sofa cushions. His eyes hurt, his head hurt, and he knew without checking that his BP would be through the roof. Sure enough, when Cap was finished he said, "Michael, your BP is 150 over 95. Dr. Early needs to know about this."

"Yeah, okay," Mike answered weakly, not opening his eyes. Hank got up and went to the phone.

In the patch of trees and shrubs in the front lawn of the house across the street, Eddie Jordan sat, hiding. He had indeed scaled that fence, trying to get into the garage. He needed to make certain the house belonged to Stoker and he now had his proof. He smirked now, watching the police officers leave. Officer Piper turned slightly toward Jordan's hiding place and tapped his badge twice as he walked back to the squad car.

"Perfect," he snarled, "two guys in the house. Thanks for the tip-off, Piper."


	18. Chapter 18

**What a Pain! - Chapter Eighteen**

Cap watched over Mike as he lay down on the sofa, then went to the kitchen phone for a call to Rampart Hospital and Dr. Early.

"C'mon...C'mon... I know it's late, but somebody pick up the damn phone..."

As he leaned against the wall, he held the receiver with his right hand and grabbed a fistful of his own thick hair with his left hand - something to have as an anchor while his emotions went sailing. He was scared, he was angry, he was exhausted.

Finally, Cap heard a startlingly high-pitched voice say, "Good evening, Rampart General Hospital, how may I help you?"

"Uh, yes, I, I need to speak with Dr. Joe Early. Is he there tonight?" Cap inquired.

The excessively polite voice said, "No, sir, I'm terribly sorry, he's not on tonight. Is there another doctor who could help you?"

Hank moved to a kitchen chair and slumped in defeat. Oddly, he was annoyed by the woman on the other end of the line; her voice was getting under his skin. She was polite, helpful, kind...and irritating as all hell. He knew it could always have been worse had he gotten a person who was rude or unhelpful, but he was at the end of his rope this night and didn't want to make endless calls or deal with someone who couldn't get him what he needed. He just wanted someone to make everything right again for his engineer.

"Well...I'm calling on behalf of one of Dr. Early's patients, Mr. Michael Stoker. Do you know if Dr. Early left someone to call in his absence?" Cap asked.

"Just a moment, pah-lease, I'll check," the woman told him. She put Cap on 'hold', and he released a breath. Although he was anxious for information, he wasn't keen on hearing it from her. Her voice was akin to a nasally slide whistle and it made Cap squint and clench his jaw when she spoke.

She came back on the line and said, "Sir, Dr. Early is at home, but would like you to call him there," and she proceeded to rattle off Dr. Early's phone number.

Cap wrote the number down on a paper napkin, thanked the woman, and was relieved to hang up. He got up and once more looked in on his engineer, who appeared to be asleep again. Sir Pain sat on the back of the sofa, awake and watching. With yet another long sigh, Cap went back to the kitchen to call Dr. Early at home.

Hank yawned deeply and rubbed a hand over his eyes as he waited for the doctor to pick up the phone, and though it was urgent, he still felt guilty about the timing.

At the sound of doctor's phone picking up, Cap coughed out, "Uh, hello, Dr. Early? This is Captain Stanley. I, uh, I'm sorry about the time, but..."

"Good morning, Captain Stanley," Dr. Early chuckled into the phone, "the night receptionist told me you'd be calling. It's perfectly fine to call me here. I understand Mike's not well?"

Cap gave Mike's vitals to Dr. Early and told him why he suspected they were elevated, and hoped he'd suggest a trip in to Rampart. If he were to be honest with himself, he knew it was because he was getting squeamish with the thought of staying here when Jordan was still around.

"Hmmm," Dr. Early considered, "if Mike is resting, I'm tempted to let him stay that way, but I'll tell you what...why don't you give Roy or Johnny a call and have them come over and assess him? If they think a trip to Rampart is needed, give me a call and I'll gladly meet you there. I don't want to cause any undue stress for Mike, you understand, but I don't want to ignore this rise in blood pressure either."

"That sound good, Doctor, thanks. I'll, uh, I'll call John or Roy right now. One of us will give you a call soon," Cap told him.

He knew 'his men' would want to know what happened, and he knew how they were. Not a one of them would complain about a call such as this disturbing their sleep. When one of their own was in trouble, they'd all want to come charging in to protect and defend. Still, the thought of waking them up at this time of night made him feel guilty.

Hank heard a muffled, "Mmph, hullo?" on the other end as Johnny wrestled his pillow for the phone.

"John? This is Captain Stanley," he announced.

That was all it took for Johnny to be wide awake. "Cap? What's goin' on? I thought you were stayin' at Mike's tonight. Wait...what's wrong? Are you guys okay?"

"John, hold on, hold on," Cap interrupted, "We're okay. But, uh, something happened tonight and I think you need to hear it from me." Hank proceeded to explain the whole cat-crashing, muddy-fence, police visit to John, who sat on the other end of the line wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Without a single other word from his Captain, Johnny had already made up his mind that he was going over to Stoker's house.

"Cap, I'll be right there," he told Hank.

"John...wait, could you bring your-," but all Cap heard was a click on the other end. He knew in his heart that he wouldn't have to remind Johnny to his medical gear, and inwardly, he smiled in gratitude.

While Johnny was hopping around his apartment, stuffing his feet into his shoes and gathering his medical kit, Eddie Jordan was waiting for just the right time to come out of hiding. He looked around himself, making certain that both police vehicles were at opposite ends of the street, then stood up, leeching himself to the large maple tree near him. He planned out each footstep, to be sure he could cross the street without being detected. Jordan wasn't the kind of criminal that made break-ins his habit, so this was going to be a bit of a challenge, but thanks to Piper, Jordan knew that Mike and Cap were the only ones inside the house. He knew with the weapon he had in his hand, he could easily overtake them both. In his dark clothing, leather gloves and black, slicked-back hair, Jordan was the perfectly clichéd criminal, ready to make good on his intentions.

He had a good thing going, running weapons, and no two-bit fireman was going to stop him. Piper had told him he had heard through the police department grapevine that Stoker couldn't identify Jordan, but Eddie wasn't going to risk that. He and Piper had already amassed a small fortune reselling the guns that had been confiscated from crime scenes, and it was not a lifestyle Jordan was willing to give up anytime soon. He watched...for cars, for people, for lights on in houses, anything that might alert someone to his presence. Noticing nothing, Jordan dashed across the street and skulked up to the side of Stoker's house. He slipped in between the shrubs and the fence and paused, once again observing his surroundings. A slight crunch of his foot on a pile of dried leaves made him stop again and look around. Keeping his breathing slow and quiet, he slid around the side of the fence to the backyard. He found the back gate was unlatched, just as he had hoped. Piper had done good.

Cap called Roy and got much the same reaction as Johnny's. As he hung up, he smiled at the dedication the paramedics showed to their friend. He decided to take a short break to check once again on Mike, before he called Marco and Chet. He filled a glass with cold water and brought with him. Easing himself on one knee to the floor, he placed a hand on Mike's arm.

"Stoker?" he half-whispered, "How about you sit up here and take a drink?" He moved his fingers down to Mike's wrist to check his pulse. Not surprisingly, it was still rather fast. Mike uttered a weak moan and moved his arm away from Cap's hand, up to his aching forehead.

"Uuugh, mmmy head hurts, C-Cap," Mike groaned, not opening his eyes. "What's g-goin' on?"

At that moment, Sir Pain sat straight up on the back of the sofa and looked around, his ears flicking back and forth. He leaped over Mike and around Cap, then crept slowly across the floor and into the kitchen. His eyes were wide and his nose bobbing up and down as he detected something unusual.

Cap patted Mike on the shoulder, stood up and said, "Uh, hold on a second, Mike, I think your cat hears something."

Sure enough, Sir Pain poked his head out of the door leading to the garage and started to growl, long and low.


	19. Chapter 19

**What a Pain! – Chapter Nineteen**

Cap stepped quietly to the garage door and leaned through the opening, trying to detect what it was that Sir Pain was alerted to. Straining his ears, he heard a soft creaking sound, followed by an increase in the volume of Sir Pain's snarl. In the attempt to make out what it was, Hank came to the conclusion the sound was Mike's back gate opening. With a wildly beating heart and quickening breaths, Cap turned off the lights in the kitchen as he ran to the living room and flicked off the lamp behind the sofa as well. Other than the pale shafts of light that filtered through the front window from the street lamps, the living room was dark.

"Stoker!" Cap whispered harshly, shaking Mike's arm, "Stoker, wake up! We need to get out of here!"

Mike blinked and tried to focus as he oriented himself. "C-cap? W-What's goin' on?" Mike asked, blearily.

"Can you sit up?" Cap asked, urgently.

"Um, y-yeah, I think s-so," Mike answered, unsure. "My head h-hurts, Cap, slllow down."

"Sorry, Stoker, we can't slow down. I think someone's in the backyard," Cap placed his arm around Mike's back and helped lift his friend to his feet. "C'mon, let's get out the front door."

"Uhm, Cap? I...I...wait..." Mike was wobbly on his feet and leaned on Cap. The persistent ache to the side of Mike's face was increasing rapidly and it was making him dizzy. He understood the urgency in Hank's voice, but seemed unable to make his body move as fast as it needed to.

Cap was beginning to think he was going to have to toss his engineer over his shoulder and haul him outside, when he heard a car door closing out front. Assuming it was either John or Roy, he gently let Mike sit back down on the sofa and bolted from the house. "Hang on, Mike, I'll be right back. Stay quiet and don't move!"

Outside it was cool and damp, and the misty light emanating from the street lamps gave an eerie feel to the night. Though he knew his paramedics were on their way, Cap was still startled when Johnny appeared from the other side of his Rover and trotted over to him.

"Cap? Where's Stoker? What's goin' on?" Johnny asked.

"John," Cap told him, "there's someone in the back yard and I think he's tryin' to get in the house! C'mon, we gotta get Stoker out of there-NOW!"

"A'right, A'right!" Johnny nodded as he followed Cap back inside Stoker's house. "Didja' call the cops?"

"There wasn't any time. Stay quiet, John," Cap whispered, "I don't want whoever it is to hear us."

Johnny and Cap went to Mike's side, but before they could speak, all three men stopped abruptly at the sounds of Sir Pain screeching from the garage. Banging, crashing, things falling to the floor, and a loud stream of expletives were also heard. Mike's head turned sharply toward the racket.

"Pain? Wh-What's wrong with h-him?"

"Honestly, Mike, I think he's buyin' us some time!" Cap told him, "now let's go!"

Now alert and aware of the danger they were in, Mike allowed Johnny and Cap to sling his arms across their shoulders and practically drag him across the floor to the front door. They almost made it.

Through the door from the garage stumbled a man, obviously agitated and angry. He charged through the kitchen and into the living room just as Cap, Mike and Johnny were about to escape. The man fired a couple of shots toward them. One hit the wall by the door, lodging in the door frame, and with the other, Cap crumpled to the tiled floor. Without Hank's support, Mike lost his balance and collapsed on top of him. Johnny slowly turned around to face their assailant, keeping his hands up in a show of surrender. The man was holding a .45 in his right hand and his left hand was pressed to his left eye. Even in the dimly lit living room, Johnny could see blood running down the man's face and between his fingers from a large scratch. The gunman tore his eyes away from the two men lying on the floor and glared at Johnny.

"You Stoker?" he demanded to know.

Knowing Roy was on the way and not wanting his friends to be hurt further, Johnny answered, "Yeah, man. I'm Stoker. Whaddya' want?"

Although tired, weak and frightened, Mike heard Johnny's words and understood what Gage was trying to do. He moved a shaky hand to Johnny's shoe and held it. For just a moment, Johnny looked down and his eyes met Mike's.

"J-John-ny...no..." Mike gasped.

Johnny ignored his friend's plea and asked again, "What do you want with me? Who are you?"

"_You_ need to disappear, pal," Jordan told Gage. "Especially now that you've seen me in person."

"Man, I don't even know who you are," Johnny responded. "I'm just a fireman, I don't want any hassle. Just tell me what you want."

"You must be as square as they come, _fireman_," Jordan retorted. "The name's Jordan. You already met me once, but I ain't letting you go this time! I ain't leavin' witnesses, either." He walked over to Cap and Mike. Cap was out cold, and blood was seeping to the tile from a bullet wound somewhere. Mike was smart enough to play possum, and lay limply across his captain, feigning his death.

"Looks like I got two of 'em tonight," Jordan chuckled. As arrogant as he was, Jordan was also far too impatient to check the men and so assumed he had killed them both. "If you do what you're told, Stoker, you might not be the third guy in that pile." Jordan then noticed the large white bandage taped to the side of Mike's head, and gave him a sharp kick to the hip. Mike screamed inside, but didn't let on. "What happened to that guy?" he asked Gage.

"Oh, uh, he fell at the fire station yesterday. My cap- um, the other guy there- brought him over here so I could check him out. He was, uh, not feelin' well and I'm a paramedic," Johnny stammered, desperate for a credible excuse. Inside, he prayed both for Roy to show up and for Roy to stay away. He knew Cap and Mike needed help, but didn't want Roy to become another one of Jordan's victims. As if on cue, Johnny turned toward the door at the sound of a car pulling into Mike's driveway.

"Who the hell is that?" Jordan demanded. "What's goin' on? All you firemen havin' a party tonight?"

"No," Johnny/Stoker told him,"it's my partner. He's here to help me with Mi- uh, my friend here," he said with a thumb pointing down toward Mike. "Take me out the back door and let my friend come in this way. Once he sees these guys, he's gonna call the cops, you dig?"

"Not if I kill him first," he growled, now pointing the gun at the picture window.

Johnny attempted to reason with Jordan, "Man, you think nobody's gonna notice a body on the sidewalk? C'mon, let's just go out the other way and we can get outta here without another murder on your hands."

Jordan started to fidget and sweat. This was not what he needed; all he wanted was for his witness to die. "Awright, move!" He waved the gun toward Johnny and motioned to the kitchen. "Just go to the backyard, but don't try nothin'." Johnny trudged silently through the garage and into the backyard. He glanced around when he heard Sir Pain's distinct growl and noticed the cat perched low on the workbench, his eyes following Jordan. The garage was a mess with things strewn all around, and Johnny knew then that Sir Pain had been the one to inflict Eddie Jordan's injury. With his free hand, Jordan picked up an empty glass jar and hurled it at Sir Pain who dodged it. "Damn cat!" Jordan huffed. "I shoulda' killed him too!"

As they entered the backyard, Gage sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the barrel of the gun press deeply into his back. "Keep movin'," Jordan spat out, "hurry up."

Behind them, Sir Pain jumped soundlessly to the floor and followed them to the backyard. He leaped to a low branch of a scrub tree and watched Jordan push Johnny roughly to the ground. Johnny's forehead and face hit the edge of the concrete sidewalk. "Unhh," he gasped and soon felt the blood dripping from his nose. To keep him from moving or talking, Jordan placed a booted foot on Johnny's cheek, pushing his face deeper into the thick grass.

Keeping the gun pointed at Gage's head, he said, "Now, Stoker, I want you to know a few things about me before I blow your lousy head off," Jordan grumbled.

Roy was around front getting his medical kit from the back seat of his Porsche, and noticed Johnny's Rover. He wondered to himself how long Johnny had been there, and snickered, envisioning Johnny's wild middle-of-the-night drive. Toting his gear, he walked up the sidewalk.

Inside, Mike opened his eyes slowly and looked around; Johnny and Jordan were gone. "C-Cap?" Mike yelped. "Cap, are y-you okay?" He could feel the panic rising in his gut when Cap didn't respond. Mike attempted to roll himself over and flopped gracelessly to the tile. With a weak fist, he pounded on the bottom part of the front door, hoping _someone_ would hear and come to help.


	20. Chapter 20

**Warning for stronger language. Bad guys cuss a lot, you know. **

**What a Pain! - Chapter Twenty**

The man's boot held Johnny's face to the ground as Jordan went on a tangent, snarling out reasons why he hated firemen in general and Stoker in particular. He added in why _no one_ was going to get in the way of his lucrative "business venture" and why, if it hasn't been for Stoker snooping around during that house fire, he and Piper would have never been found out.

"Me and Piper, we got a good thing goin' with those guns, ya' know. Keeps us in cash and plenty of it. He's been takin' 'em from the cops for months now, and I been sellin' 'em. Nobody even misses 'em, either! I got connections, too," he snorted, puffing out his chest, "we just sell off what we don't want and keep the rest- piece of goddamn cake, man! We get all the hooch and weed we want, anytime we want! Betcha' can't do _that_ on a _fireman's_ pay!" He let out a strange screeching laugh, and wiped the sweat from his face. Johnny quickly realized that Jordan was higher than a kite.

_"Great ,"_ Johnny thought, _"stoned, with delusions of grandeur...perfect."_

Jordan ranted and raved and then suddenly grew silent, panting for breath, his anger diffused for just a moment. He moved his boot from Johnny's cheek to the middle of the paramedic's back, still holding him fast to the ground. Johnny wanted to know more, and took that opportunity to mumble out, "Who's Piper?"

Jordan's rage instantly returned. "Don't gimme your shit, Stoker!" Jordan spat, "You know damn well who Piper is, he just left your freakin' house a couple hours ago!" Jordan used the .45 to clout Johnny on the head. Gage cried out, then silenced himself, hoping to avoid another assault. Sir Pain remained unobserved in the scrub tree, his growl low and constant as he watched Jordan's manic behavior.

"Man, Piper told me you couldn't finger us 'cause you hit your head durin' that fire, but I told him I wasn't takin' no more chances! Huh. But then he said..." Jordan's voice faded away as he practically stood on top of Johnny, peering around Gage's face. There was blood, but it was fresh from the wound Jordan had just created. Jordan wondered to himself, "_Wait. Piper said Stoker was in the hospital for a long time. If this is Stoker, shouldn't he have stitches or somethin'?"_

Leaning down closer to Johnny's ear, he hissed, "Wait just a goddamn minute. You ain't Stoker at all, are ya'? Who are you? You tryin' to play hero? I'm not stupid, ya' know. If you was hurt, where's it at?"

Johnny was seeing stars by then and desperately tried to not pass out, yet in his dimming awareness, realized Piper must be a cop, and that Jordan was on to him. As he struggled to think of what to do, he prayed that Piper wouldn't be one of the policemen that Roy would surely call tonight.

Enough of Johnny's wits remained for him to know he needed to keep Jordan talking for as long as he could. Roy would be in the house helping Cap and Stoker by now, and Johnny wanted to be sure they could escape before Jordan remembered them. The agitated man was clearly suspicious, but if he was also enough of an arrogant punk to continue bragging about his misdeeds, then perhaps he would unknowingly give the others the time they needed.

Roy turned down on the door handle and pushed his way into Mike's house. The door wasn't opening fully, and Roy shoved hard, wondering what the door was hitting. Finally, he opened it enough to look inside and saw the obstruction was...Mike!

"Good god, Mike!" Roy yelled, "are you okay? Can you get up so I can open the door?"

Stoker only groaned out a painful sounding, "Roy...h-help Cap..." as he rolled himself over as far as he could. It was enough for Roy to squeeze though and he dropped to his knees beside Mike and Cap.

"Shit, Mike, what happened?" Roy asked, trying not to add to Mike's growing panic.

"C-Cap, Roy...h-he shot Cap! J-John's gone! Jor-dan took John! Uhhh..." Mike moaned and began to shake. "I-Is Cap dead?"

"Hang on Mike, let me check him out..." Roy scrambled over to Cap, who lay unmoving next to Mike on the floor. He tore open his medical kit and gently rolled Cap to a laying position. Roy saw the blood pooled there on the tile, the moonlight shining on the small, slick puddle. Roy made fast work of finding where his Captain was shot, and there, in the left side of Cap's chest, Roy found the bullet hole, still slowly seeping blood. With his hand under Cap's body, he located the other wound, unsure at first which one was the entry point and which was the exit.

Still woozy, Mike was pushing himself up with his arms, trying to get up, but wasn't successful. His head turned toward DeSoto and their Captain as he choked out, "R-Roy? Is he d-dead?"

"No," Roy said simply, his hand feeling the reassuring beat of Cap's heart, "he's not. Where's your phone, Mike? We need an ambulance."

"J-Jordan mmmight still be h-here, Roy. We need to l-leave. We were leav-ing when Jor-dan stopped us," Mike said. His voice was becoming stronger and he was more aware, yet his BP was still soaring, leaving Stoker too dizzy and weak to help Roy at all. "Jordan th-thinks Gage is me. Wh-what if h-he comes back?"

"Okay, uh..." Roy exhaled, trying to keep calm, "Mike, can you get up?"

"Um, m-maybe with help?" Mike answered, completely unsure.

"Alright, let's do this," Roy announced. He located the pale blue blanket that lay on the sofa and gently wrapped it around his friend's shoulders. "Mike, I'm going to get you out to my car, then come back in for Cap. Are your neighbors okay to wake up now?"

"Y-Yeah, go two d-doors south. That's Jerry's pl-place. He can h-help us," Mike gasped. His head was really beginning to pound at that point, and his stomach was warning him of impending upheaval. Gingerly, he pushed himself up on to his elbows, and then, with Roy's help, made it to his knees. Roy stole another glance back at Cap, and waffled again, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Should he just wait for help and stay here with Cap and Mike? Should he take Cap out first? Should he leave them both and run for help? What if Jordan came back? Shaking his head to physically banish his doubts, he hauled Mike to his feet and half walked-half carried him outside as fast as they could manage.

"Mike, I'm gonna go get Cap, then I'll get help. Stay here and keep still." He deposited Mike in the Porsche's passenger seat and ran back inside to check on Cap once more. Mike moaned and let his head fall back on the leather seat. Then, deciding puking was imminent, he kicked the door of the little yellow Porsche out of the way and leaned out as he threw up.

Back inside, Roy sighed in relief, still able to find Cap's pulse. He glanced around the room, on high alert, hoping Jordan would stay away long enough for him to get Cap to safety. Roy paused and looked toward the garage; he could hear shouting coming from the back yard. He prayed desperately that if Johnny was involved, he'd somehow be safe from Jordan. Roy tore off Cap's shirt and undershirt, tossing them aside like used napkins, then rooted through his medical bag. He ripped open two large pressure dressings and applied one each to Cap's wounds, taking only enough time for that, as the shouting was getting louder. DeSoto was afraid that Jordan would return to finish what he'd obviously started.

Roy looked up when he heard the door opening again and saw a man standing in the front doorway. It was Jerry Shears, Mike's neighbor. "Hey, let me help you there", he offered.

Startled by the sudden arrival of help, Roy could only nod and sputter out, "Uh, yeah. Find another blanket and then help me get him outside."

Jerry ran to the bedroom and tore the two blankets from Mike's bed, dragging them down the hall behind him. The men slid one of the blankets under Cap and fashioned a make-shift stokes, tucking the other blanket tightly around him. Then the two men each took an end and lifted the wounded man to bring him outside. Roy cringed as the front door banged loudly against the wall as they hauled Cap outside. They lay him down gently on the soft grass, still wet with the evening dew.

Jerry looked up at Mike's friend and could tell Roy was still confused by his presence. "Look, um, Mike came over and banged on our door and woke me up," he explained, "and my wife is calling the police and the fire department. Mike's kind of out of it now, though. He's sittin' on the porch with my son, Paul."

"Mike made it to your house?" Roy asked, incredulously. He removed the earpieces of the stethoscope from his ears and unwrapped the BP cuff from Cap's arm. "I didn't think he..." Roy was interrupted by the impending arrival of the police and rescue squads. The shriek of the sirens penetrated what was left of the night as the vehicles careened down the street and skidded to a stop at the curb. The paramedics from Squad 19 jogged up to Roy and Jerry, followed closely by two police officers...Piper and Blake.

"DeSoto? What's goin' on? Aw, shit, this your Captain?" one of the paramedics asked.

"Yeah," Roy answered hoarsely, "uh, here's his vitals: BP 110/100, respirations-40, pulse-130. Our engineer, Mike Stoker is injured too; he's at the neighbor's place," he told Squad 19's men. "You're gonna need another ambulance. We're going over there now."

One of the medics acknowledged Roy's request for another ambulance and turned to his HT to call it in. Satisfied that Cap was in good hands, Roy gathered up his medical equipment and turned to Jerry.

"Jerry, take me to Mike."

Piper approached Roy, "Your engineer is over there?" Piper asked,"is, uh, is he okay?" Obviously Jordan hadn't succeeded in taking out Stoker and the last thing the officer needed was Stoker still able to spill.

Roy didn't take time to chat, he just motioned for Piper to follow him. Reaching the porch, they saw Mike leaning against the siding, his eyes closed. Jerry's wife sat with him, rubbing his arm and speaking softly to him.

Roy kneeled down in front of Stoker while Piper looked on, anxiously. "Mike? Let me help you out, pal." Once again, Roy donned the stethoscope and wrapped the BP cuff around his friend's arm. Everyone was all business until a shot was heard coming from Mike's backyard. They all froze, wide-eyed, until Mike whispered, "Nooo...J-Johnny..."


	21. Chapter 21

**What a Pain! - Chapter Twenty-One **

**More bad-guy words. Just a warning. **

"Wh-what?" Roy gulped, "Mike, what do you mean?"

Mike looked up at Roy with anguish-filled eyes and said, "Jordan took John-ny to the b-back yard. He...he thought Gage was mmme, Roy. Oh, god..." He leaned back against the siding, closing his eyes. He imagined every terrible thing that Jordan could do to John and began to tremble.

Piper, overhearing Stoker's words, bit back the temptation to scream. _"I __**knew**__ that asshole would screw this up!_" he told himself.

Eddie had a hell of an ego to begin with, and with all the money they had made reselling the pilfered guns, his sense of immortality was out of control. He was drinking and drugging himself into oblivion every night, crowing about how easy it was to get whatever he wanted. Now he was over-confident, power-hungry, and getting careless.

Piper turned and scrubbed his hands over his face before regaining his composure. He looked back to Roy and Mike. "I'm going over there," he told them. He drew his weapon and strode alone toward Mike's house.

Roy, Mike and the Shears family watched Officer Piper leave, and Roy wondered,_ "Why wouldn't he get the other officer to help him?" _

Mike gave a small groan and buried his aching head in his hands. "Mmmy fault, Roy. Gage is d-dead be-cause of me."

"Mike, we don't know what happened over there; we...we don't know..." Roy was suddenly unable to say what he most feared: that his friend and partner had just been murdered. "C'mon, pal, let's get you to Rampart."

Mike's eyes snapped open, "No, R-Roy! I c-can't leave! "Nnnot un-til I know what hap-pend to John."

Roy placed a hand on Mike's shoulder. "Okay, now look, Mike, you gotta settle down. Cap called us because of your blood pressure and we both know that getting all riled up isn't going to help. An ambulance will be here in a few minutes and you need to get in it!" Roy said, sternly.

As a precaution, he took Mike's BP again. "Now, relax a little here and let me check this." Roy grimaced at the readings he saw. He needed a way to contact Dr. Early, and soon.

When Eddie Jordan discovered that Gage was not who he needed him to be, his volcanic fury erupted once more. He bashed Johnny again on the head, and shouted, "You son-of-a-bitch! You goddamn son-of-a-bitch! What the hell you think you're tryin' to pull?" Jordan's head spun around and his eyes were nearly dinner-plate sized when he heard the sirens approaching. He wiped again at the sweat beading on his face and became frantic, trying to decide what to do. Killing Gage would be easy but getting away unseen would not.

Eddie was out of control, ranting and crazed with vengeance. With wild, bloodshot eyes, he waved his gun toward the house. "You're so stupid, man, tryin' to play me...I figured your ass out...you're messin' with the wrong guy!" To emphasize his point, he delivered a violent kick to Johnny's side. It was agonizing, but Johnny merely whimpered; Sir Pain snarled from his hiding place.

Johnny could hear Jordan howling, but in his hazy brain, it was a hollow, faraway sound, devoid of meaning. Once, he tried to get up, only to have Eddie stomp on his back and crush him to the ground. Now, he could only lie there and pray to the spirits that his friends were alive and already safely out of the house.

Sir Pain rose to his feet on the branch of the scrub tree, and patiently waited, watching Eddie's tantrum. Each time Jordan passed the helpless paramedic, he would kick Gage again, bellowing out a venomous stream of curses. He paced and shook, knowing that unless Piper made some kind of an incredible diversion, the house would be surrounded with cops very soon.

"Piper...that sonofabitch... he'd sell me out in a second...he ain't savin' my ass!" Jordan grumbled.

Sir Pain seemed to know to wait until Jordan was far too consumed in his rage to notice him moving, and slowly, inch by inch, the cat climbed to a higher perch in the tree. When Sir Pain was just at the height of Eddie Jordan's head, the cat released a blood-curdling screech and launched himself toward the drug-crazed man. Jordan spun around and was petrified when Sir Pain landed, claws first, on his face.

Gage lifted his head when he heard the cat's scream and Jordan's roar, and saw a frenzied Sir Pain biting and scratching the hysterical gunman. Jordan stumbled around the lawn, flailing wildly, trying to dislodge the furious cat. Sir Pain dug in, and clung like a remora to Jordan's head, causing the man to fall backwards over Johnny's legs. He fell to the ground and in one swift move, Sir Pain leaped from Jordan's face, and bolted for the protection of the shrubs against the fence, with tufts of Jordan's hair still stuck in his claws.

"Goddamn cat!" Eddie howled, wiping at the blood that now streamed down his face and into his eyes. Forgetting about John for the moment, Jordan charged over to the shrubs and tore through them, seeking the small gray cat who caused his agony. He spread the branches and beat on them with the gun, trying to frighten Sir Pain into coming out in the open. Sir Pain wasn't about to be seen, however, and crept along the fence line, until he spied an escape.

During the mêlée, Johnny tried to get up, but barely made it to his knees before collapsing again on the lawn. It seemed Jordan had succeeded at least partly in his quest for revenge; he had wounded the paramedic enough that without help, Gage would surely die. His face and head were covered in blood from the beatings, and his shoulders, stomach, ribs and legs were deeply bruised from being kicked. John attempted to rise again. He crawled to the edge of the patio and grabbed the leg of a chair. His arms shook with strain and he cried out as he tried to pull himself up. Gage's sense of self-preservation was strong, but it wasn't enough.

Jordan stormed back over to Gage, enraged, and grabbed the shovel that Mike had leaning against the house, bashing John squarely in the center of his back. The air was driven from Johnny's lungs with such force he fell forward on to the patio, unable to take in another breath. It was the final injury and Johnny could fight no more.

"Look, dumb ass, you ain't gettin' away. You was stupid enough to play like you was Stoker, but _I_ make the rules!" Jordan raged and pounded on his own chest, "**I** am in charge!" From the corner of his eye, Eddie saw Sir Pain darting toward the garage door. He turned and yelled, "Thought you could get away, huh? Guess again!" Jordan fired the shot that the others had heard.

As Officer Piper stalked toward Mike's backyard, the second ambulance pulled up and Roy waved the attendants over to the Shears' house. Mike tensed up and shook his head as he protested, "Nnno, Roy!" He batted away Roy's arm and struggled to stand. "Nnnot yet!"

Roy sighed, "Okay, Mike, look, just calm down. You don't have to go yet, but let 'em call Rampart at least though, okay? We need to get your BP under control."

"A-Alright," Mike resigned, He shook his head and blinked hard several times. _"As if the pounding in my head wasn't bad enough, now my eyes are going bonkers."_ he thought.

Roy noticed. "Mike? What's going on? Tell me how you feel."

Suddenly, Stoker felt worse than before. He was tempted to tell Roy he was okay, but no one in their right mind would have believed him. He was sweating, dizzy, and his eyes didn't seem to want to focus anymore. He cast his bleary eyes toward Roy, "R-Roy? I, uh, I gotta b-barf!"

Roy practically scooped Mike up and leaned him over the side of the steps, allowing Stoker to get sick in the Shears' landscaping and not in his own lap.

"Mike, you can't stay here any longer- you're going to have a stroke if you don't get to the hospital right away. I'm not even going to argue this any more," Roy told him. To the waiting ambulance attendants, he said, "Guys, let's get him to Rampart as soon as possible. Will one of you see if a medic from 19 is still here and if he can take him in? I think one of them left with our Captain."

"You got it, Roy. I'll be right back," one of the men replied, and trotted off to where Squad 19's truck was parked.

"_I'm staying here until the very end,"_ thought Roy. "_My partner needs me."_

Soon there was the paramedic from Squad 19 running over to the Shears' house along with the ambulance attendant that was sent to fetch him.

"Stan? Can you call this in? His blood pressure is sky-rocketing and he's having dizziness, blurred vision and nausea with vomiting." Roy then helped them get Mike on the gurney.

"I-I'm so sssorry, Roy... so sssorry..." Mike repeated his apology and covered his face with his hands.

Roy continued to reassure Mike that he'd be okay, and Cap would be fine too, but somehow, he never said anything about Johnny. Until he knew for sure, Roy would stay. Stan's conversation with Rampart went on in the background as Roy spoke with Mike.

"Mike, this is not your fault, understand? I'll get to Rampart and fill you in just as soon as I know something. You're gonna be okay, and Cap'll be there waiting on you. Hang in there, pal, it'll be okay."

Roy patted Mike on the shoulder and watched as the gurney was loaded into the ambulance. Blaring sirens returned as the vehicle sped toward Rampart, and Roy knew that if Johnny really was dead, Mike would never forgive himself.

Piper walked behind the house and could hear the vile language he knew was spewing from Eddie Jordan. "Eddie!" Piper half-whispered over the fence. "Eddie, it's me! What the hell are you doing?"

Jordan stopped his raving for a moment and glared around the yard, looking for Piper. His breaths came in gasps like a fat man running a marathon, and his face gleamed with sweat and blood. Sir Pain had left several long, deep gashes from Eddie's forehead to his chin and raked his claws across the man's neck. Bites from the angry cat had taken chunks of skin from Eddie's ears and nose as well, and blood still ran from the wounds. One might think Eddie Jordan looked like someone who had been caught in an industrial size cheese-grater.

Still too high on drugs and vengeance to recognize Piper's voice, Jordan began to wave his gun around, shouting, "Stay where you are, asshole! I mean it! You come near me and that guy gets it!"

"Jordan, it's me! It's Piper! C'mon, man, we gotta get outta' here! There's gonna be more cops here any minute, let's go!" In truth, Piper had no inclination toward helping the deranged man, but he also knew that if Jordan was caught, he'd be caught too. Then a thought occurred to Piper.

Roy sprinted over to Officer Blake who was already on the radio, calling for more help.

"Hey," Roy asked, "Why's your partner going over to Stoker's house alone?"

Officer Blake had seen Piper going in that direction and called for him to come back, but Piper had ignored him. That was when Blake called for backup.

"I don't know, Roy; I'm calling extra officers in and they'll be here soon. Let's go see what's going on. You know, I tried to get him to come back, but he kept on walking. Stupid new guys, they think they already know everything," Blake grumbled. Both he and Roy could already hear the police sirens in the distance.

Rather than wait for Jordan to come down from his high and let him in, Piper swiftly scaled the fence and landed in the dirt. "Eddie!" Piper shouted, "Eddie, knock it off! We gotta' split, man!"

"Piper? What the hell?" Eddie wheezed, "You comin' to get me now? Don'tcha think I can handle things? I got it all under control, man. I blew away two guys inside the house and this one right here is as good as dead. All I gotta' do is make sure I killed that cat..."

"You moron!" Piper snarled, "Both of those guys in the house are still alive! I _knew_ you mess this up, I goddamn knew it!"

"N-no, man, I saw them both fall, I saw them fall, man! They're dead!" Jordan's panic was rising and he held the gun like he was brandishing a sword. Piper raised his weapon as well.

"Looks like you royally screwed up, Eddie; you blew this job all to hell!" Piper informed the other man. Then Piper mumbled under his breath, "And since it seems like you attacked that guy on the ground, this will be the clearest-cut case of self-defense anyone's ever seen." He pointed his gun at the frenetic Jordan and put his finger on the trigger.

"Stop, Piper!" shouted Blake from behind. "Don't make another move- you either, Jordan!"

Blake had called in six other police officers who now had Mike's house surrounded. Blake leaped over the wood-paneled gate and Piper raised his hands in surrender. Jordan was not about to go quietly.

"Go ahead and shoot me, asshole," Eddie taunted, "you know you want to! Maybe I'll finish this guy off first," he howled, then coughed, pointing the gun at Johnny's temple. Johnny merely lay there, moaning almost imperceptibly.

Jordan coughed again, and then pointed the gun at Piper's head. "This guy knew what he was doin'; he knew all about everything. Maybe I should off him instead? Hell, maybe I'll just kill everyone! Man, wouldn't _that_ be a night!"

Jordan's breaths were short and rattling and his eyes bulged as he danced around the yard, threatening to pull the trigger on each individual he could see. Suddenly, Eddie fell to his knees and made a rattling sound like he was gargling with each breath. Piper looked at him, eyes wide with shock, and in his last moment before collapsing, Eddie Jordan pulled the trigger and Piper fell like a stone.


	22. Chapter 22

**What a Pain! -Chapter Twenty-Two**

One of the policemen called for additional squads and ambulances, and the sirens could be heard screaming into the vicinity. It was just past three o'clock in the morning and several of Mike's neighbors were in their pajamas, standing on the sidewalk. They were talking, craning their necks, and trying to see what was going on. Gradually, they began to wander into Mike's front yard. The neighbors who had been helping Mike since he came home from the hospital were all fretting about "that nice young man, Michael" and hoping he was okay. Mary stood in her pink housecoat and fuzzy slippers, her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes.

Officers Blake and Gonzalez charged over to Piper and Jordan and dropped to the ground beside them. Roy also vaulted the barrier, but sprinted to Johnny's side. Voices swirled around Johnny's head and he couldn't seem to understand all the commotion going on. He had enough to do just trying to take in a breath and not throw up.

Eddie Jordan lay curled up on the damp grass, clawing fruitlessly at the earth. He wheezed and gasped for air; the veins in his neck bulging as he struggled. A pink, frothy substance bubbled from his lips and ran down his cheek. Although Gonzalez ran to Eddie and kicked the gun out of the man's reach, the police officer didn't seem in a terrible rush to help him.

Officer Piper, on the other hand, lay on his back, with a single gunshot wound to the center of his chest. Blood oozed thickly from the site and he was still. His eyes were open, yet unseeing, and as his body began to shut down, his lips formed words, with barely a sound escaping.

Blake stood near Piper, his partner of only five months. He hurriedly wadded up his handkerchief and pressed it tightly to the wound in Piper's chest, attempting to stem the bleeding. "What happened, man?" Blake asked, his voice shaking, "You...you coulda'...waited for me, or, or come back. Aw, shit, Pipe, you didn't have to do this."

Piper's eyes blinked and his fingers wandered over to Blake's hand. Blake looked down when he felt the touch and Piper gasped out, "I...Jor...dan...we took...guns...we...sold 'em..."

Blake's eyes widened in disbelief. "Pipe...the guns from the crime lab? You took 'em? All those missin' guns?"

A blink of his eyes and a barely perceptible nod was all Piper could give, and Blake couldn't understand how he could have been so blind. "Why...are you telling me this, Pipe? I...I never thought you were in on it..."

Piper only whispered, "Sssorr..ry..."

It was the typical death-bed confession, often occurring when someone knew their time was up. Blake had heard dozens of them...just, never from a friend. When they had been paired up, Blake had taken Piper under his wing and looked forward to showing another rookie the ropes. As apparent as the young man could sometimes be, Blake never once picked up on the dirty dealings his new partner was involved in. Now the senior officer questioned his own abilities. "Hmph, over a dozen years on the force and this is how good I am," he said quietly; a single tear escaping. He looked back at Piper and saw the young man had quietly succumbed to his injuries.

"Aw, man," Blake said, choking up. "Pipe..." Blake couldn't finish. He knew Piper was gone and closed his partner's eyes for him in a final gesture of solidarity. He stood and turned to face the other police officers and called out sadly, "Martin, call for the coroner...Piper's dead."

Roy knelt on the ground, lying next to a prone Johnny, his arm wrapped loosely around Gage's shoulder. "Johnny?" he asked shakily, "Can you hear me, Junior?"

Johnny couldn't take in enough air to respond. His ribs hurt so much, he would have cried if he had the strength. He moved his fingers enough for Roy to understand he was responding to his questions.

"Johnny, there's going to be an ambulance here any minute, okay? We're gonna get you to Rampart and you'll be alright," Roy told him. He took a gauze pad from his pocket and unwrapped it, and gently wiped the dripping blood from under Johnny's nose. When Roy placed a hand lightly on his partner's back, Johnny gasped and let out a weak cry, which made DeSoto pull his hand away in alarm. He hadn't seen Jordan hit Johnny, and didn't know that the blow from the shovel had broken three of his partner's ribs.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, Johnny, are you hurt there?" Roy asked worriedly, and began to feel for other injuries. There was a squeaked-out "Yeah" from Johnny and an anxious Roy sat up and wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs, impatient for the next ambulance. Berman and Chen, the two paramedics from Squad 23 came through the gate followed by two ambulance attendants with a gurney. They instinctively headed for Jordan, whose struggles were hard to ignore. Roy hurried to step in between them, and said, "Over here!"

"Roy? That Johnny?" one of the medics asked, pointing to the dark-haired figure on the ground.

"Yeah, and he's hurt pretty bad." Pointing a thumb towards Jordan he said, "That asshole beat him."

Berman and Chen were torn between doing what they were obligated to do, which was treat Jordan first, and their loyalty to John Gage, who was their friend and comrade. Only a moment passed before their senior paramedic spoke.

"Roy, we gotta..."

Roy interrupted, "Yeah...I know. Just get the other guys over here, will ya'? Johnny needs help, badly."

"Yeah," Berman said, "we will. Chen, I got this guy for now. How about you go tell the other guys that Gage needs them?"

"You got it, bud," Chen responded, then turned and ran to the other squad. "Hey, guys! Over here! Pronto!"

Roy went back to Johnny and looked up at the arriving paramedics, Karl Sandler and Marty Williams. "His back is hurt; he doesn't want me to touch it. I think he has a coupla' broken ribs," Roy informed them. "His nose is still bleeding a little, it may be broken, too. Jordan beat him...he...he...oh, damn," Roy stopped to take in a breath, "that bastard beat the hell out of him."

"Okay, Roy, we got it from here," Marty told him. Roy nodded and sat down next to Johnny's head and leaned in. He exhaled a stream of comforting words in Johnny's ear and his fingers floated above John's body, unsure of where to touch his friend. The paramedics cut away Gage's shirt and jeans and the three men simultaneously sucked in a breath when they saw the bruising that was swiftly developing. There was a moment of hard, angry silence as they looked upon Gage's body. With every touch or movement, Johnny could only whimper, and it looked as if every square inch was becoming black and blue. Each man swallowed back their rage toward Eddie Jordan, and went to work, helping their friend.

"Sshhh, it's okay, Junior. We'll get you outta here real soon, I promise, sshhhh...," Roy consoled.

Sandler had detected the broken ribs as well and made note of a possibly broken collarbone. It would be immensely painful to be moved, but Johnny needed to be transported immediately. It was decided to keep Johnny on his stomach, apply the c-collar, and slide the backboard underneath. Swiftly, and with compassion, Johnny was loaded onto the backboard then transferred to the gurney with a minimal amount of jarring. In the light of the ambulance's interior, Williams peeled back the blanket which covered Gage, and searched for the least bruised area of Johnny's arms, with which to take a BP reading.

Somehow, Johnny had protected his right arm from Jordan's assault by tucking it under himself, and that appeared to be the only unbruised spot Chen could find. Sandler sat on the jump seat, gaining contact with Rampart Emergency, and Roy sat on the bench near Gage's head, fitting the O2 mask over his partner's face.

"We're leaving soon, Johnny..." Roy told his friend, "You're gonna be okay...hang in there..."

The coroner's dark wagon backed up over the curb and into the front lawn, a stark symbol of something gone terribly wrong. Two men exited, retrieved a gurney from the back, and rolled it through the gate. Piper's body was loaded up and wheeled out in silence. Officer Blake followed the somber parade to the van and placed his hand on the blanket-covered corpse of his former partner. "What a waste...what a fuckin' waste," he sighed. "Pipe, you dumb ass, you coulda' been one of the good guys." He slowly walked away as Piper's body was slid into the van and taken away to the morgue.

Eddie Jordan, the man so hell-bent on misguided vengeance, had also been whisked away to Rampart, his earlier thrashing stilled. He gasped ineffectively for air and his eyes stared vacantly upward. He had shot himself up with a hefty dose of heroin as a 'courage-booster' just before he entered Mike's yard, but this time, it seemed his body had finally had enough. His heart was now slowing down and his lungs were filling with the fluid he now choked on. His face was a dusky blue and no amount of oxygen was going to bring the breath of life back to him. The paramedics had tried to find a suitable spot for an IV, but Jordan's excessive using had collapsed many of his veins. They would be at Rampart soon, but Death was waiting patiently for Eddie Jordan.

Sandler unwrapped the BP cuff from Johnny's arm and rattled off the readings to Williams. Gage's BP was 100/60 and falling, pulse was 120, and his respirations were only eight. Roy watched Marty and Karl doing everything Dr. Brackett was ordering over the bio-phone, and was silently grateful he was not in charge. Sitting there, comforting his friend, was all he could accomplish at the moment.

Johnny could hear Roy speaking, but it all faded in and out. He wanted to tell Roy everything that happened, wanted to know if Mike and Cap were safe, wanted to know if Jordan was dead, but he couldn't summon the strength. Within minutes Rampart was in sight and Roy reassured John that all would soon be well.

"Hey, we're here, John, it's gonna be okay," he murmured.

"Iah, uhh,ih..." Johnny responded. The movement of the gurney being removed from the ambulance and rolled into the E.R., brought a surge of bile to Johnny's throat, which threatened to launch. Being face-down and wearing an oxygen mask was definitely not the position to be in should that occur, and Johnny started to panic as he felt the gurney thump against the treatment room door. His fingers fluttered and he grasped weakly at the sheet covering the gurney's mattress. With as much effort as he could expend at that moment, John moved his hand enough so that Roy would notice.

Seeing his partner's distress, Roy leaned down, "Johnny? You gonna hurl?" he asked.

"Uhhh...yeh...Rrrro...," he slurred from under the mask. Soon the mask was removed, there was a pan under his chin and Dixie stood by with a suction wand. The vomiting was excruciatingly painful and Johnny passed out from the struggle.

Roy stood and stared at Johnny's bruised and battered body and felt his muscles tense with the rage that was building inside. He balled his fists and clenched his teeth and tried in vain to slow his rapid breathing. Dixie placed a hand on Roy's shoulder and he turned to her with wide, angry eyes.

"Where is he?" Roy asked, "Where's Jordan? If he's not already dead, I swear, I'll kill him."


	23. Chapter 23

Roy ran a hand through his hair and paced; Dixie observed him and frowned. She knew how he was about his crew mates; she'd seen it over and over. Whenever a friend was injured, Roy always bought a one-way ticket on the worry-train. Dixie decided right then that it was up to her to stop it. She stepped forward and took hold of his arm; it was warm and clammy from his short tirade.

"Roy? C'mon...let's go outside," she said, calmly. "You know Johnny's gonna be okay, just give him some time."

Roy nodded as they started for the door, "I know, Dix...it's not just him," Roy answered, glancing back at Johnny and everyone that was helping him. "I mean, it _is_, but...it's also Mike, a-and Cap and...this whole damned night!"

Roy and Dixie walked out of the room and Roy rested his forehead against the cold surface of the wall and thumped his fist on it. "I mean, well, I...ah, Dixie, I just don't like..." his voice softened, "being so damned rattled. They're not just "random victims", you know? Captain Stanley had been shot and was bleeding badly, Mike had collapsed, and I had no idea where Johnny even was. I...I can usually deal with stuff like that, Dix, I really can, but tonight was...kinda' much, ya' know?"

Dixie gently turned him to face her, "Roy, do you really think you weren't supposed to be affected by this? I'd like to know how you were _supposed_ to feel. A lesser man would have crumbled under those conditions." She paused and placed a well-manicured hand on his arm. "C'mon, let's go sit down."

She led him like a child to the staff lounge, and as weary as he was, he let her do it. She sat him on the sofa, presented him with a cup of coffee and he groaned as he sat back. He could feel the adrenaline leaving his body and it was affecting every part of him. He ached all over and his thoughts felt like they were battling for first place in his brain. If there was a single word that meant complete and utter exhaustion, he didn't know what it would be, but he sure knew he felt it.

He rubbed at a knot in the back of his neck, sipped his coffee, and looked up at Dixie. "Mike was already getting sick, you know? Cap said he was concerned about Mike's BP; that's why he called me and John. I know Stoker was really worked up about Eddie Jordan being on the loose and all, and...geez, he didn't even_ know_ that guy. I know if Cap hadn't been there...Mike woulda' been dead for sure. I wish I knew what all happened there." He paused, then ran a finger around the rim of the coffee mug, staring down into the hot liquid. He choked out, "Johnny and Cap almost had Mike out the door... did you know that? They almost got away."

Dixie did know that, but she would let Roy talk until he was drained. She had spent some time earlier trying to calm a very agitated Mike Stoker as he blurted out everything that had happened. Mike's high blood pressure had him confused and anxious, and he had been convinced that Cap and Johnny were dead. It took quite awhile before the meds kicked in enough to get him to understand they were still alive. She'd tell Roy about Mike as soon as Roy's adrenaline bottomed out. By the looks of things, that wouldn't be long.

Roy continued, "Then...then, Jordan SHOT Cap; shot him right where he stood! Mike was too weak to help him by then, but Johnny, he..." Suddenly, Roy realized something. He'd been there at Rampart for nearly a half-hour and he hadn't yet inquired of his Captain and Engineer. Roy's worry-train suddenly transformed into the guilt-wagon and he climbed aboard. "Oh, god...Cap...I didn't even... oh, man, has anybody called his wife? And Mike, he's probably...aw, shit, I gotta call Chet and Marco; they don't even know about this!"

He slapped his hand on the table and stood up quickly. His knees buckled and he flopped back to the sofa. "Whoa..." he said, grabbing the arm of the sofa, trying to clear his dizziness. Knowing what was happening, Roy leaned over and put his head between his knees. "Uh...Dixie? I-I think I could use a little help here."

The rush was beginning to dissipate and Dixie had anticipated Roy's reaction. She stood ready with a can of orange juice she had purchased from the vending machine, and sat down next to him. She slid a straw into the can, and offered the juice to him as he leaned over. "Here, Roy, drink this," Dixie offered, as she sat down next to him.

Roy sipped gratefully on the juice and leaned back into the stiff leather cushions, his head still a bit woozy. "Thanks, Dix." He closed his eyes again and said, "What a night, huh? I sure wish I could press a rewind button and start it all over again; I could think of about a million things I'd change." Opening his eyes, he put the swiftly emptied can of orange juice on the table, sighed, and looked at Dixie, "You, ah, you know I didn't mean it...about killing Jordan...right?"

"Roy DeSoto," Dixie said with mock sternness, "you _save_ lives, you don't take them, and anyone who knows you, knows that's the truth. You have every right to be angry now, and, while Jordan may be a poor excuse for a human being, you still wouldn't kill him." Then Dixie smiled and shrugged, "Maybe punch him in the face a few times, but you wouldn't kill him. At any rate, I don't think you'll have the chance to do anything to him. Last I heard, the boys from Squad 23 said Jordan was pretty well a goner before he even got here."

Roy huffed a small laugh and closed his eyes for a moment, "Well, I can't say I'm upset by that news, anyway. Hey, uh, who's got Cap in surgery? Is he doin' okay? Is Mike in a room yet? Can I see them?"

Dixie smiled warmly at Roy and knew he'd never let himself relax completely until he knew his friends were going to be okay. "Alright, I don't know everything, but I was there when they came in, so I'll tell you what I do know. Let's start with Mike. When he got here, his blood pressure was climbing and approaching crisis level. Dr. Early was very concerned about Mike having a stroke. He was pretty confused and agitated, and was complaining of chest pain and a bad headache. I know he was really fretting about Captain Stanley and John, too."

Roy nodded, remembering how unnerved _he_ had been, and Dixie continued, "I was there with him, though to be honest, I'm not sure he knew what was going on at that point. I know Dr. Early gave Mike I.V. meds to bring his BP down as fast as possible and I'm pretty sure that was helping. Once he stabilizes, Dr. Early is going to have some x-rays done to make sure no damage was done to the surgery site. He's still getting IV meds, and he's on oxygen. Dr. Early put him back in ICU too, so he can monitor him for a while. That's pretty much all I can tell you about that."

"Okay...and Cap?" Roy asked, trying to digest the information.

"Captain Stanley's wound was, fortunately, a perforating wound, so there was no bullet to be removed. However, he'd lost a little more than two liters of blood by the time he got here, and I'm told it's because the bullet nicked an artery. Dr. Ramsey did his surgery and as far as I know, everything was repaired nicely. He's pretty weak yet from the blood loss and he's also going to be in ICU, to watch for infection. I called the Captain's wife, and she's in there with him now."

"I guess that's good news. I'm glad you called his wife; I can't believe I totally forgot about that until just now. Is Cap awake? Can I see him?"

Dixie glanced down at her watch, "Hm, he was being moved to Recovery just before you got here with John, so let me check where he is first, and I'll let you know."

"Okay," Roy said, dolefully. "I, uh, I think I'll go call Joanne and Chet and Marco. Will you let me know when Johnny gets moved to a room, too?"

"Sure thing," Dixie said. "And, hey, why don't you use the phone in here? I think when you're done making your calls, you should lie down for a bit; at least until Joanne or someone gets here."

Roy thought about protesting, but honestly, he really did feel like he'd been shoved through a knot-hole backwards and the thought of a few quiet minutes alone was really appealing. "You know, Dix, that's the best offer I've had all day," he said, rubbing his palms across his tired eyes. "Thanks."

"You take care, Roy. I'll go check on your partner, and be back in a few minutes," Dixie smiled at him.

Roy smiled back and eased himself up and over to the table where the phone sat. He looked up at the clock on the wall: five o'clock in the morning. So much had happened in the past four hours, he could barely recall anything that happened beforehand. He picked up the phone and called Joanne.

E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*E*

Finally, all the squads and ambulances had departed from Mike's house and the curious neighbors had all returned to their homes. The only people remaining were the four policemen, still looking for evidence. The beams of their flashlights swept thoroughly around the dark property, and occasionally, a flash bulb would pop as photos were taken of the scene.

"Hey! Check this out!" one of the police officers called from the front yard. Another officer came over and peered down at what had been found. It was a syringe, used up and tossed in the gutter. Carefully, they lifted it with tongs and placed it in a clear plastic bag.

"Article number one!" the first officer chuckled. "Ten bucks says this belongs to the dude who flipped out. Man, he was in bad shape; I'll bet he's a goner, even if this wasn't a big amount. If he's been shootin' up for years; he'd only need a dime's worth and...poof!" he said, with a snap of his fingers,"dead."

The second officer chuckled and agreed, "Yep. Once that shit gets its claws in ya' it only gets worse. Wasn't that the guy they thought was running all those guns?"

"Yeah, I think so," the other replied. "If it was, then I don't feel a bit sorry for his ass. Too bad about Piper, though. I wonder why he went back there by himself? He shoulda' waited for backup." They turned to enter the house and join the other officers inside.

Next to the fence, Sir Pain sat, bewildered by the cessation of the chaos. He licked at a few scratches he'd gotten from diving into the shrubs, and nibbled at his claws, trying to pull out the remnants from his tussle with Eddie Jordan. Once that was accomplished, he strolled back into the garage and trotted into the house. One of the police officers noticed him.

"Hey, there's a cat in the kitchen. You guys s'pose he belongs here?" the man asked.

"Cripes, Louie, I don't know," said another officer. "Go see if he has tags or a collar or somethin'."

Louie shrugged and approached Sir Pain, who flinched at the sight of yet another stranger in 'his' house. The cat darted around the man's legs, and ran for the safety of Mike's bedroom. He made himself as inconspicuous as possible by huddling between the bedpost and the side table. Louie followed Sir Pain, but really didn't care if the cat belonged here or not. He poked around disinterestedly, and when he didn't immediately find Sir Pain, he went back to the living room to resume the search for evidence.

By that time, the bullet which had splintered the door frame was found, the bullet that had wounded Captain Stanley had been located, and photos of the entire house and yard were taken. It was time to leave the scene and the four officers left the lights on, locked up the house and re-attached the crime-scene tape before driving off. Louie felt a little guilty leaving the cat inside, but Sir Pain was as grateful as a cat could be to have Mike's house quiet again. Once he was sure he was alone, Sir Pain jumped to the top of Mike's bed and curled up to sleep. It had been a very long night.


	24. Chapter 24

"Do ya' think we should wake him?" said a hushed voice.

"Yeah...we probably should; he's gonna want to know," whispered the other voice.

"Pretty rough night; a few more minutes wouldn't hurt him any," replied the first.

"I dunno, I think this is pretty important," murmured the second.

Roy blinked and frowned, trying to focus on the human forms standing next to the sofa. "Mmph," he grunted, and stretched his 6'1" frame to its full length, reveling in how much better he felt after a bit of rest. Opening his eyes fully, he saw Chet and Marco, standing before him and whispering secretively.

Roy cleared his throat, sniffed, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and grunted again, "Hi. What's goin' on?"

"Oh, uh, sorry Roy. We weren't sure if we should wake ya' or not," Chet told him. "Dixie said you were resting in here."

"It's alright," Roy replied, inhaling deeply, then releasing it. "What's up? Something wrong?"

"Uh, no, we just wanted to tell you that Johnny's in a room now and Cap's awake. They're actually both asking for you," Marco informed him, "Dixie said Mike's resting, but that's all we know about him."

"Hm, guess I'm a popular guy all of a sudden," Roy mumbled. He tossed off the light blanket that he assumed Dixie had placed on him, and sat up on the side of the sofa. Rubbing his hands over his face to wake up further, he looked up at the old clock on the wall, and saw it was just past nine o'clock. Four hours of sleep wasn't much to be sure, but it sure felt good anyway. He yawned deeply and said, "Alright, where to first?"

"Uh, I guess Cap's room?" Marco shrugged. "Dixie told us about him first, anyway. From what she said, it sounds like all three are in ICU for at least a little while. Cap's in 310, Johnny's in 313 and Mike's in 322."

"Okay, let's go then," Roy stated and stood up. No longer woozy, he stretched and yawned again before exiting the lounge, followed by a very concerned Chet and Marco.

The trio walked in silence to Captain Stanley's hospital room. Roy, of course, knew more about the possible long-term complications of a gunshot wound, especially for a person who needed to use his muscles each day- like a fireman would. Although his wound could certainly have been worse, it would definitely need quite some time to heal. With a certain degree of apprehension, Roy opened the door and poked his head inside the room.

"Hey, Cap? Can I come in?" he asked almost timidly.

"Roy," mumbled Cap tiredly, "c'mon in, I've been wanting to talk to you. Sit down, please."

Roy walked up to the side of Cap's bed. The legs of the light blue chair which sat against the wall, squonked across the floor as Roy slid it over to the side of the bed. Before sitting, he took a good look at his Captain's face. Stanley was pale and obviously weak, but the determined look that the Captain always seemed to own was still there. His left arm was lying to his side, slightly raised to keep pressure off the bandages that wound around Cap's chest. An IV line slid its way down to Cap's right arm and he sported a nasal cannula for oxygen. He gave Roy a tired smile, and that small gesture did wonders for Roy's uneasiness.

Roy cleared his throat, "C-Cap, you feelin' better?" He pressed his fingertips tightly to the unyielding surface of the bed rails and had a hard time meeting his Captain's eyes.

Cap closed his eyes slowly, then looked back at Roy. Like all of Roy's close friends, Cap knew by now how DeSoto was when "family" was injured. "You did good, Roy," Cap reassured him, "I'm going to be fine; I don't want you to worry so much, okay?"

Roy managed a smile he didn't really feel, "Yeah...thanks, Cap."

Marco and Chet stood sentry at the doorway, mindful of the exchange between their Captain and their friend.

"Chet, Marco, it's okay. C'mon in," Cap told them.

They approached their Captain and Chet smiled weakly. "Cap? Man, I'm sure glad to see you again," he sputtered. "Gonna be weird havin' all you guys out when we go on shift next, ya' know?"

"Yeah, Cap. We were all pretty worried about you...and Mike...and John," Marco said as he stood on the other side of the bed. He felt like he should take Cap's hand or pat his shoulder or..._something_ to show support, but was afraid of hurting him. Instead, he fidgeted with his hands for a few seconds, then finally stuffed them in the front pockets of his jeans.

Roy still couldn't make himself sit and relax, but was definitely relieved to know Cap was awake and talking. "So, uh, everything went well, Cap? Your surgery, I mean? How long they think you're gonna be out?"

"Well, it's a little too soon to be certain, they said, but Doctor Ramsey figured it'd be at least six weeks, if everything goes well." Cap looked like he was going to nod off, then opened his eyes again. "I really don't have much pain, at least, not yet. Maybe when they back off on the good stuff here, that'll change," he said, drowsily, nodding toward the IV line.

"Well, uh, look, I'm gonna go and let you get some more rest, Cap," Roy said, then looked over at Cap's wife. "Mrs. Stanley, I'm, uh, real sorry about all this. I'm...I'm glad he's gonna be okay."

Cap's wife smiled warmly at Roy, then at Chet and Marco; she stood to take Roy's hand in hers. "Boys, I'm so glad you're here for Hank. He'll be back with you all before you know it." She squeezed Roy's hand, "God bless you, Roy, you're a good man. Take care."

Roy nodded, "Thank you, ma'am, I-I appreciate that. Cap? We're gonna go check in on Johnny and see if we can find out anything about Mike. We'll fill you in as soon as we can."

"Good...good...thanks, Roy." Cap winced a little, then gasped when he tried to take a deep breath. He gave a meager chuckle, "Looks like I need a little more of the good stuff. I'll see you guys, later."

"Yeah...see ya' Cap," Chet said solemnly, "Mrs. Stanley."

"Bye, Cap, bye, Mrs. Stanley," Marco waved.

Upon exiting the room, Chet, Marco and Roy all exhaled. "Geez, he looked pale, Roy," Marco said quietly. "I've never seen Cap like that. Kinda' scary."

"You shoulda' seen him when I found him at Mike's..." Roy mumbled, then walked toward Johnny's room.

Chet and Marco exchanged a worried glance and watched Roy amble away.

"This has to be pretty hard on him, amigo." Marco shook his head, "I can't imagine what Roy went through last night."

"Yeah," Chet agreed quietly, "it musta' been somethin' awful. I hope Gage looks better than Cap did."

Roy stood outside room 313 with his hand on the door. He was reluctant to go in, recalling how badly Jordan had beaten Johnny last night. He was fairly certain that Jordan could not have lived long, but wished he knew for sure so he could tell Johnny. Taking a deep breath to steel himself for what he was about to see, Roy stood up straight and opened the door.

Johnny was asleep again, and Roy stepped softly to the bed. Once again, Chet and Marco stood back, unsure if they should enter as well. Chet peeked his head around Marco's shoulder, wanting, and yet not wanting, to take a glimpse of Johnny. He could see Johnny's head was turned away, a large bandage covering most of the side that was visible. IVs ran down to both arms, which along with his legs, were slightly raised and cushioned on several pillows. As expected, his face was swollen, black and blue. Although he had three cracked ribs in his back, he still lay on a cooling blanket to ease the bruising and swelling. The hospital gown covered the deep purpling on his hips and thighs, his right knee was bandaged, as was his left ankle. Eddie Jordan had certainly done his best work.

Roy swallowed hard and took a breath, "Hey, uh, Johnny?" he said softly, "it's Roy. I, uh, just wanted to see how you're doin'."

Johnny stirred a little and opened his eyes when he felt Roy's hand on his shoulder. His turned his head toward Roy and Roy tried to hide his shock at how swollen and discolored John's face was. Johnny managed a small smile when he recognized his partner standing there.

"Roy?" he croaked out.

"Yeah?" Roy asked.

"I don't think...black and blue...are my favorite colorth anymore," Gage lisped through puffy lips.

Roy smiled a little, "Yeah...I'll bet not. You in much pain, Junior?"

"Nah," answered Johnny, "the meds take care of motht of it. Jus'...really tired." His eyes wandered over to the doorway. "'Zat Chet an' Marco?"

Roy turned, "Yeah, it is. Hey, guys...c'mon over."

"Yeah..." Johnny mumbled, "I won't bite." He paused, then snickered, "Actually, I_ can't_ bite... I broke a tooth and my mouth ith too puffy."

Marco smiled and approached Johnny's bed. "Hey, Amigo, how're you feeling?"

"Geez, Gage, you look like a big raisin, " Chet smirked. If Johnny could joke about his injuries, Chet felt he could as well. "Hopefully the cafeteria doesn't make any cookies today, you could be in trouble."

"I'm gonna be okay, Marco, thankth...and I'm already in trouble, Kelly...you're here," Johnny snarked back.

The tension having been broken, Johnny said, "Guys? Can one of you raithe the bed? I wanna sit up a little."

"Sure, Gage, I'll help," Chet butted in before Roy had a chance to respond. A nervous Chet was never a good thing. John knew he'd fuss and fret, all the while hiding it behind jokes and false bravado. Roy stepped back and allowed Chet to tend to his pigeon.

Once upright and able to see his friends better, Johnny asked, "Well...you guyth...gonna tell me about Cap and Mike?"

"We, ah, we just left Cap's room; he's doin' good. He's pretty weak; guess that bullet caused a lot of blood loss, but he says he's gonna be okay," Roy told him with a slight shrug. "I suppose he's gonna be out for a while, though."

Marco nodded, "Yeah, he'll be okay...it'll just take some time."

The room fell silent for a few moments, then Johnny spoke again. "So, uh, what about Mike? Any of you theen 'im yet?"

"No...not yet. I don't know why, but Dixie only said he was resting in his room. She _did_ say we could go see him, though," said Chet. "Man, I bet he's takin' this stuff hard."

"Yeah...probly' so," Johnny gasped and closed his eyes. His meds usually did a fine job of taking away most of the pain, but every time he tried to shift in bed, it was like each nerve ending woke up angry.

"You okay, pal?" Roy asked. "Want me to get a doctor?"

Johnny snorted a little, "No, Dad, I'm okay. It's...only bad...when I move. Gotta stop that."

"Okay, well, uh, maybe we should get goin'. How about we go see Mike now?" Roy asked Marco and Chet.

"Sure, that sounds good. We'll see ya' tomorrow maybe, okay, Gage?" Marco told him.

"Yeah, that'd be good. Thee ya'." Johnny sighed and closed his eyes again as the guys left his room.

Wandering down towards Stoker's room, Marco nudged Roy. "Hey, look there. That nurse is leaving Mike's room; she doesn't look too happy."

The three firemen arrived at Mike's door in time to overhear that nurse tell another, "That's the second time today he's refused breakfast and it's only nine-thirty! Doctor Early's a nice man, but he's going to have my head if I can't get that man to eat something. How many times do I keep trying?"

"I know, Janey," the other replied,"honestly, sometimes these patients make things so much harder than they need to be!"

The nurses stalked off and Marco, Chet and Roy stood there, looking at each other, unsure how to proceed. This was probably going to be harder than they thought.


	25. Chapter 25

**What a Pain! - Chapter Twenty-Five**

"Boy, now I _really_ don't know if I want to go in," Chet wondered. "What if he's really upset?"

"What's that supposed to mean, Chet?" Marco growled, "if he's upset, we should be here for him, don't you think?"

"Well, yeah..." Chet replied, "I'm just sayin' I don't know what to say to him, that's all. I mean, Mikey never gives anybody grief and you saw how torqued off that nurse was. I wonder why he wouldn't eat anything? If that was Gage not eating, we'd have to check for a pulse, but that's still weird for Stoker to skip a meal..." he continued his rant until Marco interrupted.

"_Maybe_ he's not hungry, Chet! He's been through hell in the last twenty-four hours, man, maybe he just doesn't feel like eating yet," Marco countered.

Roy only sighed; he didn't feel the need or have the energy to jump in this debate. Walking right between Chet and Marco, he said, "C'mon, you guys, let's go in."

Despite DeSoto's best efforts toward being quiet, the door to Mike's room squeaked obnoxiously as it was opened. Roy grimaced in annoyance and made a mental note to tell the nurse about it. Roy entered, followed by Marco and then Chet. They paused and observed their friend, not speaking at first.

Mike lay in the bed, his head turned toward the wall and his eyes closed. His friends noticed the wound on the side of Mike's head bore a fresh bandage. The heart monitor beeped rhythmically, he had oxygen through a nasal cannula, and his chest rose and fell evenly, giving Roy the impression that Mike might be sleeping. Then Roy noticed Mike's hands. His left hand had the IV, which Roy presumed had blood pressure meds added to it, but his right hand held tightly to the bed sheet, twisting and crushing it. His feet twitched a little, and as Roy got closer, he could see Mike's lips moving soundlessly. Apparently, Mike hadn't noticed the squeaking door, or his three friends entering the room, as he didn't acknowledge them at all. Or, perhaps he just didn't want them there.

"Uh, Mike? Hey, uh, it's Roy...and Marco...and Chet," Roy announced quietly, "okay if we come in?"

Mike neither moved, nor opened his eyes. He just sighed and continued twisting the sheet. Chet and Marco looked around the small room, taking note of the equipment and machines. Chet shifted nervously from one foot to the other and looked down to watch them. Marco cleared his throat a little and idly thumbed through a pamphlet on high blood pressure that he found lying on the roll-away bed table. Roy moved around to the side of the bed that Mike faced, trying to get him to make eye contact.

"Mike? You okay?" Roy asked. Roy thought Stoker looked pale and depleted, and as strong as Mike once was, he now appeared almost...frail. "Hey," Roy said softly, placing his hand to still Mike's agitated movements, "you gonna look at us?"

At first, there was no response from the despondent Engineer, save for him taking his hand out from under Roy's and resuming the stranglehold he had on the corner of the sheet. Then Roy barely heard, "Still diiizzy...feel sick."

"Are the meds helping, Mike?" Marco asked. "We can call Doc Early if you want."

Mike just breathed out a "No" and lay still.

At a loss for what to say or do, Roy stammered, "Well, we, uh, we wont stay long. We just wanted to tell you we saw Cap and Johnny...they're gonna be okay. Cap'll be out in a few more days, probably, and John's gonna be out soon too, so, uh, you know, we just thought you'd like to know. If you need anything, we'll all be here to help out."

Chet joined in, "Yeah, Mike, if you want us to bring you anything...um, clothes or, or some real food maybe..."

Never opening his eyes, Mike's adam's-apple bobbed as he swallowed hard and said in a tired, hoarse voice, "No. Nnnothing. Just...go h-home, guys."

Now Marco approached Mike's bed and placed his hand on Mike's, and held it there firmly, not allowing Mike to pull away. "Mike, you are our friend, our amigo, you know? We don't want you to feel so badly. Listen to me...Cap's going to be fine, and Johnny...well, he'll be alright too. Now _you_ have to get better and get out of here, man."

Mike only mumbled, "I c-can't."

"You can't?" Marco gently scoffed, "What does _that_ mean, 'you can't'?"

Mike opened his eyes slightly and turned his head to look up at Roy and Marco, squinting as he rode out the wave of nausea he felt. "C-cap almmmost _died_...rrright there... next to me...be-cause...he was _helping_ me. Johnny...al-mmmost died...in my back y-yard...be-cause of _protecting_ me..." His eyes reddened as he gulped and fought back tears, his voice shaking with grief, "another mmman _did_ die... a police-man... trying to _save_ me. This...all hap-pened because...I-I screwed up. I should nnnever have...gone into th-that house. Nnnone of this...would have hap-pened. I...I can't...help anyone anymore...es-pecially mmmyself."

They were stunned. They had never heard such talk coming from their friend. Mike Stoker always had an unflappable air about him that Chet could try to emulate, but never quite achieve. He was envious of the engineer and his "strong, silent aura" yet always admired him too. This was unnerving to say the least.

Chet felt compelled to add his two cents in and approached the bed, "Stoker, man, we're a team, right? Station 51 is the best crew in L.A. County and...and we didn't get that way by givin' up. I'm tellin' you, the _only_ thing you _can't_ do, man, is- is give up."

Roy worked a half-smile. "Ya' know, Stoker, I never thought I'd ever say this, but...Chet Kelley is right." He put his hand on top of Marco's which was still resting on Mike's.

Chet moved closer and placed his hand on top of Roy's. "So, uh, we're not exactly the Three Muskateers, but hey, all for one and one for all, right?"

Mike blinked and looked up at his friends, not quite knowing what to do. Ever since finding out about the extent of Cap's and Johnny's injuries, he'd been doing nothing more than torment himself for what had happened; all too willing to place the blame squarely on his own shoulders. In his tortured mind, he was certain that his crew would abandon him. Now, he was mystified; after everything that had gone wrong, after so much pain and worry...they still came...they still wanted to help.

His eyes crinkled with a watery smile and he croaked out, "O-kay."

"Now, that's more like it!" Marco announced, "51s will be back together in no time at all!"

At Mike's home, Sir Pain-in-the-Butt woke, stretched and jumped down from Mike's bed. He strolled through the now quiet house and went out to the garage to take care of his business. Stepping lightly over and between the clutter that was strewn all over the garage floor, he reached his destination...the litter box. When that was done, he wandered back into the house, fully expecting there to be breakfast waiting in his bowls by the patio doors. Finding none, he observed his surroundings for a moment, then meandered through the house, meowing for his friend.

When Mike was there, the man would call back to the cat to let him know where to find him. Sometimes, if Mike were sitting in the chair or on the sofa, he would pat the cushions to invite Sir Pain up to his lap. Other times, Mike might toss the catnip mousie or the jingle ball that Sir Pain had taken a liking to. Now, once again, Mike wasn't there and knowing _something_ had happened, Sir Pain was confused.

The cat detected and sniffed at the scents left behind by the commotion of the night before. Scents of blood on the entryway floor, of gunpowder and splintered wood, of sweat and mud and strangers. He was perplexed, hungry and curious. Sir Pain wandered back through the house, into the garage and upon finding the rear door slightly ajar, pushed out to the back yard.

Still, his friend could not be found, so Sir Pain leaped to the top of the wooden fence and looked behind him to the scrub tree he had perched in, the garden he dug in, and the hammock where he and his human would nap. He sat there for a minute, then silently, he jumped to the ground outside the fence. Deciding to go searching for his friend, the cat ambled away down the sidewalk, to places as yet unexplored.


	26. Chapter 26

**What a Pain! - Chapter 26**

Mary and Gus, Mike's neighbors, were in their front yard, when Mary noticed Sir Pain strolling down the sidewalk. She shook the dirt from her gardening gloves and slid them from her hands.

"Gus, isn't that little Pain, Michael's cat? I wonder where he's going? Michael might be home in a few days and he'll be worried if the cat's gone," she fretted to her husband. Gus put down his wheelbarrow and rake and walked over to take a look.

Mary went to the end of the yard and met up with Sir Pain on the sidewalk. She bent down to pet him and Sir Pain twirled his lean body around Mary's ankles, purring like a tiny motorbike. Much to Sir Pain's surprise, Mary plucked him from the sidewalk and hugged him to her chest. Then, holding him out in front of her face she gushed,"Oh, you're such a sweet little thing! Such a good boy, aren't you? Are you looking for Michael? I bet you are!" Mary cooed to the cat for a few more minutes, then correctly assumed Sir Pain was probably hungry.

"Gus, can you go get some of that leftover tuna in the icebox? It's in the pink dish with the foil over top." Turning back to Sir Pain, she squeaked, "Mr. Kitty here needs his breakfast! Don't you little guy? Oh,yes you do!"

Gus chuckled and shook his head. It didn't matter if it was a human, a stray cat or dog, or the birds and squirrels in the park, his wife never could resist feeding a hungry creature. Mary's love for life overflowed in everything she did and it seemed her life's mission was to be sure everyone around her was well-fed. He smiled and patted his own ample belly in appreciation of his wife's cooking skills and went inside for the tuna.

When Gus returned, Mary still had Sir Pain in her arms and he had his head buried in the crook of her elbow. She giggled at the cat's silliness and nuzzled his head with her nose. "Such a fuzzy baby! Yes, you are!" she fussed with delight. "Gus, we're going to have to take care of Mr. Pain here, you know. He can't be wandering the streets alone."

"Now, Mary," Gus replied, "Pain was a stray when he showed up at Michael's. He's been on the streets before; I think he knows what he's doing. He's a smart guy; I can tell," Gus smiled and reached over to rub Sir Pain's ears affectionately. "C'mon, Mary, put him down. I put the bowl of tuna on the porch."

Mary walked over to the porch and placed Sir Pain on the mat and sat on the step next to him, smiling as she watched the cat practically inhale the tuna. "Good thing I didn't use all this tuna up in that casserole I sent over to Michael's; I don't know what I'd feed this poor little fella otherwise!"

Sir Pain gobbled up the tuna and lapped politely from the dish of milk Gus had also placed on the porch. With a full belly and plenty of attention, Sir Pain was content to be where he was for the time being. He found a sunny spot in amongst the dahlias in one of Mary's flower beds and proceeded to tidy himself up after his meal. Mary smiled admiringly at Sir Pain and wrapped her arm around her husband's waist. Not knowing about Sir Pain's role in last night's pandemonium, she said, "Such a sweet little cat! I bet he wouldn't hurt a fly!"

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

Pleased that Mike seemed to have understood that he was not being blamed by anyone, Roy, Marco and Chet stood around with relieved smiles on their faces.

"C-could one of yyyou guys hand mmme my handkerchief?" Mike sniffed, "i-it's in the drawer."

Embarrassed though he was, the visit from his friends had gone a long way toward alleviating Mike's self-reproach. The misery he had inflicted upon himself was completely unwarranted and finally, Mike relaxed for the first time since arriving at Rampart.

Chet rooted through the side table drawer, and, not finding the handkerchief, reached over and grabbed a fistful of the tiny Kleenex-wannabes that were in the box on the bed table.

"Here, pal, it's all I could find," he told Mike, still watching the Engineer closely. Chet wasn't totally convinced that Mike had so quickly absolved himself of his guilt. Yes, Stoker was much calmer, but Chet wondered what would happen once they left him alone. To Chet, this was a lesson to be learned: _"Never assume you know how people are really feeling."_

"Thanks, Ch-Chet," Mike replied, wiping at his eyes and nose.

"So, uh, Stoker, you gonna eat somethin' now? That nurse that left earlier looked kinda' pissed," Chet not-so-eloquently stated.

Mike closed his eyes once more and sighed, "Y-yeah, I guess. G-gonna have to ask for mmmore Ph-Phener-gan, though. I'm still a l-little green." He paused and without opening his eyes said, "You guys? Umm...th-thanks...I mmmean it."

"Hey, it's what we do best, right? Run in when everyone else is running out?" Marco joked. Then a little more solemnly said, "Mike...seriously...we're here for ya', man."

"I knnnow," Mike quietly replied.

The tension in the room was dissipating and the visitors mutually decided it was time to leave. Before Roy placed a hand on the door, however, Mike's eyes flashed open and he gasped loudly.

"Oh!" he yelped. "P-pain!" The others spun around to see a frightened expression on Stoker's face.

"Mike, what's wrong?" Roy asked, immediately going into paramedic mode and rushing back to Mike's bedside. He was already counting Mike's heart rate and respirations when Mike pulled his hand from Roy's grasp and shook his head.

"Nnno,no, I'm o-kay, Roy. I just...f-f-forgot about Sir P-Pain!" Mike panted, "Can you g-guys go check o-on him?"

Roy stopped and looked, mouth agape and wide-eyed, at Stoker and couldn't seem to say a word. Marco dissolved in a fit of laughter.

"Your cat?" Chet said, incredulously, "Man, you just about gave me a heart attack!"

Stoker smiled, "Sorrrry, guys. I j-just thought a-bout him...and I-I rrreal-ized nobod-y was there to f-feed him. I-I don't even know i-if he's in-side or out."

"Don't sweat it, man, we'll go take care of the little critter," Kelley smiled once he calmed down a bit.

In his head, he'd already begun making plans for the treats and toys he would bring to Sir Pain. Chet knew the whole story by now, and he was going to be sure that Sir Pain was well-tended to until Mike came home again.

"Alright, guys, let's get going, our engineer needs his beauty rest," Marco snickered.

"Yeah, okay, Joanne oughta' be here pretty soon anyway. Plus, I'm starving!" Roy added. "See ya' Mike, we'll be back later, okay?"

"Later, Stoker!"

Mike nodded his goodbyes then chuckled when all three turned around and said, "And eat something!"

Once he was alone again, Mike's thoughts turned to Sir Pain and everything that had happened since the little cat arrived at the Stoker house. Never in a thousand years could Mike have predicted such things; he just wasn't the type to attract commotion. He knew he'd have to call his mom and sister today and tell them what happened, and he was definitely not looking forward to that. He was sure his sister would want to come down from Oregon again, and although Mike missed her, he didn't want her to worry about him so much. He knew she'd also insist on bringing their mom, who, he was sure, would worry herself into an early grave. This was one of the reasons he stayed so quiet; he hated being fussed over.

_"As soon as I'm in a regular room, I'll give them a call,"_ he thought, then fell into the first peaceful sleep he'd had in days.

E!E!E!E!E!

Chet and Marco both decided to go directly to Mike's house to check on Sir Pain before going home to get some sleep. Knowing that Joanne would want to visit Mike, Cap and Johnny, Roy decided to get some breakfast at the cafeteria first.

"Let me know if anything needs done at Mike's," Roy told the others, "I can go over there tonight."

"Yeah, okay, we will," they both answered. They exited the stale air of Rampart's hallways and walked into the bright sunlight of another beautiful day in Carson. After so many days of gloom and rain, the sun had finally come out in more ways than one. Chet went one way and Marco the other as they walked to their vehicles.

"Meet ya' at Stoker's!" Marco called.

"Yeah...see ya' there!" Chet yelled back.

Before getting in, he leaned back against the door of his van, closed his eyes and let the sun warm his face.

_"Hmm...maybe being 'strong and silent' isn't the thing to be,"_ he considered, _"Look how much Mike beat himself up about this...I never thought he would feel that way." _Chet looked down and idly kicked at a few pieces of loose gravel before climbing in the van and driving away. He smiled and thought about the grocery store a little ways down the road. He'd stop there and pick up a few things for Sir Pain before he went to Mike's.

When Joanne arrived, she found Roy in the staff lounge, asleep again in one of the chairs. There was a tray containing remnants of his breakfast lying on the table, and two empty coffee cups beside it. Jo smiled, knowing Roy must really be exhausted if two cups of coffee hadn't succeeded in waking him up for the day. She sat in the green chair next to him and lightly rubbed his arm to wake him.

"Roy? Honey?" she whispered.

Roy woke with a start and turned to grin at his wife, "Caught me snoozing again, eh?"

"Yeah," Joanne said with affection. "Last night was pretty awful...are you okay?"

Roy stood up and pulled Joanne to her feet for a hug. He held her to his chest, smoothed her hair, and kissed the top of her head.

"I am now," he told her.

In his room, Johnny dozed off and on while his IVs delivered medication to help with the pain. He had taken inventory of his injuries earlier and estimated he'd be off work for at least a month. Aside from the rib-breaking whack from the shovel, Jordan had stomped on Johnny's ankle, kicked him in the thighs, knees and hips, and repeatedly bashed his head to the ground. Johnny figured the blow from the gun was what had broken his nose. There had been some concern that he may have had a bruised kidney, but that, at least, seemed to have resolved itself. One of the orderlies had found a hand mirror for him to use, and now he regretted it. His lips were swollen and his nose taped. One eye was puffy and black and the cut across his temple required ten stitches to close. Then there was the broken tooth, which of course would mean a trip to the dreaded dentist. Johnny was a mess and he knew it. For once, he hoped no pretty nurses would be assigned to care for him, because right now, he was most definitely not at his best.

"Although, there is the sympathy factor..." he mused.

In Captain Stanley's room, the nurse was finishing up another vitals check. Everything was looking as good as was expected, and Dr. Ramsey informed Cap that perhaps by tomorrow he could be moved into a regular room.

"That would be great," Cap mumbled. He hadn't been hospitalized since right before he made Captain and he didn't like it now any more than he had then. He was tired, but didn't feel like sleeping, he was hungry, but food didn't sound good, he was achy but he didn't want the fuzzy feeling he got from the pain meds. In short, he was one unhappy Captain. His wife, however, sat contentedly in the chair next to the bed...knitting him a pair of slippers.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N - I do not speak Spanish, so I have relied on Google Translate for Marco's mutterings. If it is incorrect, I apologize.

**What a Pain! - Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Chet pulled into Mike's driveway and waved to Gus and Mary as they drove past. Mary was on a mission to make sure Sir Pain was coddled and loved until Mike returned home, and they were now on their way to the pet store in Torrence. Chet, too, planned to shower the small hero with gifts and showed up with a bag full of gourmet kitty food, catnip toys and a new bowl. He sat in his van and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the Doobie Brothers' "China Grove" as he waited for Marco.

Sir Pain, however, was still napping in Mary's flowerbed and blissfully unaware of both Mary's plans for him and Chet's arrival next door. When they left Rampart, Marco decided to stop home first, with plans to call the police station to make sure they were allowed to be in Mike's house. His departure was delayed, however, once Mama Lopez caught sight of him. It took him the better part of an hour to assure her that he hadn't been sneaking into the house and avoiding her. He promised her over and over that her beloved "Miguel" and "Juanny" as well as the "wonderful Capitan" would all recover. Oh, how she loved those boys, she reminded her son, as she used a corner of her apron to dab a tear from her eye. She wanted to come along to help, and Marco squirmed as he tried to convince her that he and Chet could handle it.

"No, mamá, yo no estaba a escondidas! Está bien, van a estar bien. Tú, uh, no es necesario que venga, Chet estarás conmigo. Gracias, sin embargo, Te quiero ... mucho." (No, Mama, I wasn't sneaking! It's okay, they will be fine. You, uh, don't need to come along, Chet will be with me. Thank you, though, I love you too...very much.")

Mama wasn't very happy with being dismissed, but she loved her son and agreed to stay home. She'd keep herself busy making meals for Marco's coworkers, and have them ready to deliver when the men came home again. She kissed Marco tenderly and sent him on his way with a paper sack full of churros.

The night everything went to hell in a handbasket, crime scene investigators had gotten fingerprints and blood samples, taken photos, and collected the bullets, but wanted to make one more pass before releasing Mike's property. They had finished by eleven that morning, but had not cleaned anything up. There was still a small pool of Cap's dried blood on the entryway floor, chairs upended in the kitchen and the mess on the garage floor, not to mention the muddy footprints crusted throughout the house and backyard. Johnny's blood still stained one corner of the concrete patio, and the lawn was torn up where Johnny, Eddie Jordan and Officer Piper had struggled and lain that night. The wind had taken the wrappers and other leavings from the paramedic squads and blown them about the yard.

It was this cluttered scene that greeted the two linesmen as they wandered through Mike's house.

Chet could only sputter, "H-Holy shit!"

"Ah, Dios mio!," Marco added, "What a mess!"

"Man, didn't I just get done cleanin' this place?" Chet whined, "I don't even have Gage to help me this time. Guess you're up, Marco...let's go grab the buckets." He dropped the bag he had brought for Sir Pain on the kitchen table and took a still astonished Marco by the arm. "C'mon, most of the stuff's in the garage."

"Uh, Chet...what about the cat? Shouldn't we look around for him, too?"

"Oh, yeah, guess so. Poor little guy, I bet he's around here somewhere, all scared and hungry...let's go find him first."

The two firemen walked separately through Mike's house with the thoroughness of a fire-scene search and were becoming frustrated when they couldn't find Sir Pain.

"Ow, damn!" Chet yelped when he stood up too quickly from Mike's bedroom floor and smacked the back of his head on the dresser drawer he'd left open. Logically, he knew the cat would not have been in the sock drawer and not been visible, but Chet felt compelled to look anyway. Hearing Chet's expletive, Marco decided to find him. Chet was on his hands and knees on the floor, sniffing the air and craning his neck, and Marco entered the room in time to hear Chet say, "Meeeeeooow! Mew? Meow!"

"Chet…" Marco asked, rubbing his hands over his eyes, "do I even want to know what you're doing?"

"C'mon, Marco, I'm acting like a cat, of course! Everybody knows if you're gonna look for something, you should '_be_' that thing. You know, 'become' what it is that you're searching for."

"What? Chet, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard! What if I lost my watch? Am I supposed to sit on my dresser and go tick-tock? You're crazy."

"Naw, man, it's far out! See, if I _act_ like a cat, I'll be able to _find_ the cat. It's simple, by bein' on the floor like this, I can see the room from the cat's perspective, and see all the places it might be hiding. It's common sense," Chet countered.

"Chet, that's...you can't…it doesn't…ahh, never mind." Marco walked away, muttering his frustrations in Spanish. "Ese hombre ha perdido por completo sus canicas. Actúa como un gato? ¡Está loco!" (That man has completely lost his marbles. Act like a cat? That's crazy!)

Marco came to the conclusion that Sir Pain was not, in fact, in the house at all and decided to give up the search entirely, but Chet had other ideas. Now he was on his hands and knees outside in the backyard, meowing and calling Sir Pain's name. Once, Marco even saw Chet up in one of the bigger trees, sitting on a branch…still meowing. Besides being embarrassed by his friend's bizarre actions, Marco was beginning to panic that they weren't going to find Sir Pain at all and that they would have to go back to the hospital and tell Mike his cat was missing.

"Look, Chet…how about we put some food and water on the patio here? The cat's just wandering; I'm sure he'll be back, and besides, we've got a lot of cleaning to do here," Marco suggested.

Chet stood up and brushed the loose grass from his hands and knees. "Man, I was sure I'd find him," he said, disheartened. "I mean, that cat saved Mike's life, Marco! Twice! We gotta find the little bugger."

Marco sighed, "I know, Chet, and we will, but cats are funny like that. If they don't want to be found, they won't be found. Maybe Sir Pain just needs some time to be sure everything is cool around here again, you know?"

"Yeah…guess so. Alright, let's go clean this place up," Chet lamented. He walked back to the garage, but kept looking behind himself, hoping to spot the wayward feline. But before starting on the cleaning, Chet went to the refrigerator, took out a hotdog, cut it up and placed it on a plate on the patio. Just in case.

Two and a half hours later, Chet and Marco stood back to admire their handiwork. Not a single drop of blood or spot of mud was anywhere and the floors all shined with a new coat of floor wax. They had vacuumed and dusted, scrubbed and washed everything they could see. The backyard looked tidy enough for company, and not a sign remained of the violence of the night before. Mike's garage was put back in order as well, with all the screws, nails and clutter put back where Chet and Marco assumed they were supposed to go. If it wasn't right, well then, Mike would have something to do once he came home.

"Looks good, doesn't it, Amigo?" Marco beamed, proudly.

"Indeed it does, Marc, indeed it does," Chet smiled. "How about a beer to celebrate?"

"Sounds good to me! Want to stay here or go out?"

Chet, still a bit heartsick about the missing cat, glanced at the kitty supplies he'd brought and said, "Uh, you mind if we stay here? We could...ya' know, sit outside and, uh, maybe Sir Pain will come back."

"Chet, you old softie! Sure, we can stay here; I'll go get the brews," Marco laughed.

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

Mike, with his guilt on the verge of being assuaged, decided he needed to know if Eddie Jordan was dead. If he was, he felt he could at least have closure on that part, knowing that he'd be safe again once he returned home. Safe. That was a pretty powerful word, he decided. Mike didn't know _how_, or even _if_, he'd ever be able to repay his 'brothers' for everything they did to keep him safe. He'd been with this impressive crew for a few years now, and he knew any feelings of being left out were of his own accord. They never excluded him from any sort of get-together, but rarely did he join in. He just liked his privacy, that's all, he reasoned, but lately, he could tell the walls he'd built up around himself were slowly crumbling.

Mike reached over and pressed the call button, and in a few moments, a lovely nurse walked in and smiled, "Mr. Stoker? What can I help you with?"

Mike opened his eyes and said, "Um, c-could you see if Doc-tor Early is avail-a-ble please?"

"Mike? The nurse said you'd like to see me?" Dr. Early inquired just a few minutes later.

"Uh...y-yeah," Mike said quietly, "Doctor Early...Jor-dan's dead...isn't he? I mmmean, I don't w-want you to th-think I..." he sighed, "I don't kn-know how to sssay this..."

Dr. Early spoke up, "Jordan_ is_ dead, Mike, he died within the hour of bringing him in. There hasn't been an autopsy done yet to my knowledge, but the doctor who treated him said Jordan's lungs filled up, his veins were collapsing...his heart just couldn't take any more. Everything was indicative of a heroin overdose. There, ah, really was no saving him." Noticing Mike looking down and scratching one thumbnail with the other, he asked, "Mike? Are you okay?"

Mike mulled this over; having trouble resolving this in his head. He'd always been taught, by his parents, teachers, the fire academy, that life was precious and it was a noble act to save it. Yet, Eddie Jordan had killed others- taken their lives- and very nearly killed him, his friend, and his Captain, with seemingly no remorse. Surely Jordan shouldn't be given the same consideration? Would it be a horrible thing to rejoice in that man's demise?

"Y-yeah, I just don't know how I-I ffffeel," Mike said, still looking down at his hands, "I don't w-want to be hap-py that he's d-dead...but...I am," he whispered.

"I understand, Mike, and believe me, it's okay. But...maybe you're not happy really, just more...relieved?" Dr. Early suggested.

"Ye-yeah," Mike considered, "maybe th-that's it...I'm rrrelieved...and safe." He let himself lean back on the pillows, "Th-Thanks, Doctor Early."

Dr. Early gave Mike a quick exam, patted his shoulder and proclaimed the Engineer recovering nicely. His blood pressure was lowering as they had hoped and his surgery site was continuing to heal well. Perhaps tomorrow, he'd be moved into a regular room and if things progressed like Doctor Early hoped, Mike might be out and home in just a few days.

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

Captain Stanley's wife was out for a few minutes and Cap was being subjected to another vitals check. Once the nurse left, he watched carefully for her return and, deciding the coast was clear, sneaked his hand under his hospital gown and carefully peeled the tape and bandages away from his wound. It wasn't an easy task, trying to do this with an IV in his other arm, but curiosity would not be denied; he had to see what it looked like. Cap lifted that part of the gown and peered inside. He was told there was a moderate amount of tissue and muscle damage and that it had bled profusely from a nicked artery. None of that, however, was visible as he looked down at his Betadine-yellowed skin, to the incision in his body, now skillfully sewn closed.

He poked it a little, but it was still mostly numb, surprisingly. He tried to move his arm, but the injured muscles underneath it protested. He lightly rubbed a finger around the wound, but didn't dare touch it. Several minutes passed as he observed the injury, and all he could manage was a half-hearted, "Hmph. What do you think of that."


	28. Chapter 28

Roy and Joanne decided their first stop should be to see his partner. Roy warned her that Johnny would be looking rather...colorful, but she was not a woman who was easily scared off by the sight of blood. She'd seen too much of it in her years as a fireman's wife to be frightened away now. Arm-in-arm, they made their way back to the ICU and toward Johnny's room.

A nurse was just leaving Gage's room with a basin and towel, and the DeSotos rightly assumed she had given Johnny a bath. She smiled graciously at the couple and went down the hall._ "At least it wasn't Attila the Nurse this time,"_ Roy thought to himself, remembering the old battle-axe that had made their last joint hospital experience even more miserable.

Roy held the door for Joanne and she peeked in. By now, Joanne knew the story of how their friend had been beaten trying to protect Mike and Cap. She knew that he'd be laid up for some time, yet in her head, she couldn't help picturing him sitting up and smiling that resolve-melting grin. It was anything but. Johnny's eye, lips and nose were still swollen and she doubted he could have grinned if he wanted to. He was asleep, breathing through his slightly parted lips. His nose was packed and taped so thoroughly, he resembled a parcel awaiting shipment. He had ice packs applied to his knee and ankle and his ribs were taped as well.

"Oh, gracious," Joanne whispered,"He looks awful, Roy. Should we wake him?"

"Hmm, maybe not; let's let him sleep. Lemme take a look at his chart first, then we'll go see Cap and Mike."

Roy took the chart that hung from John's bed and perused all the information inside, then returned it to its spot. He stepped closer and looked at Johnny for a few moments. Roy had been so close to being inside the house when everything went wrong; _so_ close. He could easily have been in the thick of it and was both grateful and guilt-ridden that he hadn't. He sighed and mumbled, "Well, at least Jordan won't be causing any more trouble for you, Junior."

"Roy? Did you say something?" Joanne asked.

"Oh, uh, no...nothing important. Let's go see the other guys and come back later."

Roy and Joanne left Johnny's room as quietly as they had entered it, with Gage oblivious to it all. The afternoon visits to Mike and Cap were short but encouraging as the men were in good spirits now and resting as comfortably as they could. Mike wore a genuine smile during most of their visit and for that, Roy was thankful. Although it hadn't yet been forty-eight hours since the attack, everyone was ready to start putting it behind them. Knowing now that Jordan was dead, Mike was eager to start physical therapy again so he could get home to familiar territory. He wanted to be well on the way to recovery before his mom and sister came to visit.

A second quick stop to Johnny's room was just as disappointing as the first as he was still napping. Since Roy was on shift the next morning, he decided to leave a note for his partner, promising he'd visit then as often as he could. Joanne leaned over and gave a gentle peck to Johnny's forehead and they left for home. They picked their children up at their friends' house on the way and the rest of the trip was filled with conversation about what the kids had done there and what Joanne would make for dinner.

"Finally, something akin to normal," Roy mused. "Maybe later I'll call over to Mike's and see if Chet and Marco need any help tonight." Warm, comforting sounds came from the kitchen as Joanne prepared dinner. He smiled as he stood at the back door for a few moments and watched Chris and Jenny running around the yard. _"So close,"_ he thought again. Then shaking those thoughts from his mind, he went outside to join his kids in a game of tag.

While Roy and his family were settling back in, Marco and Chet were sitting on Mike's patio, each enjoying a cold beer and the churros that Mama Lopez had sent along.

"Beer and churros; what a weird combo," Marco said aloud, "Mama would be appalled."

Chet's stomach growled loudly, not placated by the sweet, cinnamon-dusted treats. He wiped the sugar from his mustache and flicked his fingers together, making the crumbs fall to the ground. "Delicious, Marco, but messy. You do realize we skipped lunch, right? I'm still hungry; wanna order a pizza?"

"Nah, I'm thinking a run to Benny's Burger Hut sounds better. Anyway, amigo, we should probably lock up this place and head home, you know; we gotta work in the morning. Or...do you plan to do some more cat-hunting tonight?"

"Well...no, I hadn't planned on it, but now that you mention it..."

"Better be careful, Chet," Marco teased, "you sound so realistic, you might attract an amorous suitor!"

"Feh, whadda' you know?" Chet growled, throwing the crumpled up sack at Marco with a laugh. "It would have worked if I didn't have to stop and do the cleaning."

"Whatever you say, Chester," Marco chuckled. "C'mon, let's go get some burgers."

They stood and stretched, and as Marco brought the empty bottles, napkins and paper sack back inside, Chet couldn't help giving one more look around the yard. Before they left, Chet took a can of the catfood he'd brought, scooped it out onto a plate, left it on the back steps, and removed the uneaten hotdog from earlier. He sighed, wishing he could tell Mike that all was well with his pal.

Over at Mary and Gus's, Mary was unpacking all the things she had purchased for Sir Pain, then went to retrieve her newly acquired houseguest. The cat, having napped for hours in the flower bed, was ready to go in search of food. His quest was rudely interrupted by a well-meaning Mary scooping him up in her arms and toting him inside her house.

Sir Pain was not usually aggressive, but still he squirmed and wiggled, trying to escape Mary's grasp. All the windows were closed, not allowing any of the exciting smells from outside that Sir Pain usually loved. The quiet hum of the air conditioner in one window eliminated all the sounds of birds and people which usually kept Sir Pain's attention. Mary and Gus's house smelled too sweet- like flowers and laundry soap. Mary plopped Sir Pain on the top of the washer and proceeded to thoroughly brush his coat of any tangles, real or imagined, all the while cooing and fussing over "the poor little thing". She picked up each paw and cleaned his nails, she inspected his teeth and delivered the final insult when she lifted his tail to see if he'd been "fixed."

Mary then tied a red ribbon around Sir Pain's neck. "Fire-Engine Red, of course!" she peeped, "My, what a handsome fellow you are!"

She stepped back for a moment to admire her work and Sir Pain took that opportunity to jump from the washer and run for cover. His claws skidded over the linoleum in the kitchen as he tried in vain to gain footing on the slippery surface. He careened into the living room and dove behind the sofa. The fuzzy green carpet was long and shaggy and his claws stuck in it when he tried to walk, so there he stayed, contemplating his escape. Hours passed as Mary tempted him with toys, a dish of goose-liver pate' and bowls of cream, but Sir Pain would not be swayed. He was determined to stay there until Mary gave up and left him alone. She fretted to her husband that Sir Pain would be lonely back there or perhaps starve, but Gus assured her the cat would do nothing of the sort.

"Leave him be for a while, Mary, and he'll come out on his own," Gus promised.

Mary pouted and turned to leave, deciding to sit in the overstuffed chair to watch for Sir Pain's escape. The night wore on and Mary had taken a few small breaks for dinner and to change into her night-clothes. Still, she always returned and sat there in her house coat, with her hair in big pink rollers, and pretended to read a magazine. Eventually, Gus went to bed and Mary fell asleep in the chair, snoring softly. Sir Pain peeked out from his hiding place and lapped at the cream and only nibbled at the unfamiliar pate', keeping his eyes alert for any movement from the nearby chair.

Mary yawned loudly and shifted in the chair, causing Sir Pain to scoot back behind the sofa. Finally it seemed she was asleep for the night and Sir Pain decided to venture out. His claws caught on the carpet as he padded his way to the kitchen. He hopped from cabinet to windowsill, pawing and meowing, desperate to get out. Gus heard him crying and got up to investigate. Sir Pain crouched behind the backdoor. Gus walked sleepily around the house, quietly calling for Sir Pain and trying not to wake Mary. The rain had started again and Gus decided that while he was up, he'd better bring the chair cushions in from the patio. That was exactly the break Sir Pain needed, and he darted between Gus' legs and out the door. Gus yelped at feeling the cat slither against his ankles and was too distracted to stop Sir Pain's escape.

Sir Pain dashed outside and ran down the sidewalk in the rain, with only one destination in mind: his favorite human's house. Like a kitty super hero, he leaped up and over Mike's fence and dashed across the lawn to the garage door. He stopped for a moment, sniffing the air. He spied the plate of kitty food Chet had left for him on the steps and quickly gobbled it up. The back door to the garage was still a bit ajar, so he pushed it open and went inside. Soaking wet, he sniffed around, detecting the scents of Chet and Marco, but not of Mike. Looking up, he noticed the window of Mike's truck was open, and jumped up and in. Here was a familiar scent! Sir Pain spent awhile cleaning himself, which included tearing at the red ribbon. Once he succeeded in getting it from around his neck, he curled up on the front seat and went to sleep.

The next day, the remaining members of Station 51 reported to work and Stoker, Stanley and Gage all worked on getting out of their beds. Each man was moved out of the ICU and to a regular room on the second floor, as their injuries were no longer deemed life-threatening. Stoker had an appointment in physical therapy to check his balance again, and if all was well, he would be allowed to go home in another 24 hours. His call to his sister had gone better than he hoped, with Jeannie promising to call their mom and do a little 'refining' of the recent events to keep her from panicking. Mike smiled as he hung up and knew Jeannie would do everything in her power to put a positive spin on things for him.

Johnny groaned loudly as Doctor Brackett and two nurses helped him sit up on the side of the bed. It was the first time he'd been upright since he was brought in to Rampart and 'dizzy' didn't come close to how he felt. Fortunately (or not) he had been assigned a couple of veteran nurses who were not at all Johnny's 'type' so he felt no pressure to keep smiling. Dr. Brackett observed Johnny for a few moments, his smile curling up on one side. He palpitated the knee which was still hot and swollen, and the ankle which was much less so.

"I think it should still be a day or so before we try to get you on your feet, Johnny," Brackett told him. "That knee is still pretty tender. The ankle looks better, though. How's the pain in your ribs?"

"Hmm, not sho bad, Doc," Johnny reported through puffy lips. "I can handle it."

"Good, good, let someone know if it starts to get ahead of you, though. Do you think you could manage some soft foods for breakfast? I imagine you're getting tired of that IV."

Johnny considered how much his split lips hurt, but still decided to try. "Maybe a milkshake or shomethin'? I don't know how much chewin' I can do yet."

"That'll be fine for now, Johnny. Let's see how you do and maybe we'll take the IV nutrients away later today."

Johnny nodded agreement and looked to the nurses. "Um, you think I could maybe lie down again? Sittin' up is really over-rated right now."

Brackett smiled and let Johnny lie back down. "I'll be back to check on you after breakfast, Johnny."

Cap, meanwhile, was being pushed around the halls in a wheelchair by his wife. The rain had stopped, but the grounds were still too wet to venture outside. His wound was healing well, and Doctor Ramsey had said that once the stitches were removed, Cap could start physical therapy. That was still a week or more away though, and Cap was already getting anxious about leaving the hospital. He desperately wanted to forget this and go back to work. "Soon," everyone reassured him, "soon."


	29. Chapter 29

A/N - It's been an incredibly crazy October for me, but the best part is that tomorrow, my best friend and I are going to Michigan to see Randolph Mantooth in a play called "Superior Donuts". YAY! I can't wait!

**What a Pain! Chapter Twenty-Nine**

The next morning after breakfast, Mike was sitting on the side of his bed, waiting for Doctor Early to finish with his examination. Between bits of conversation, Stoker stared at the gray and white tiles on the floor. One had a pale red stain on it from...what? Mercurochrome, maybe? It made him think of the slate-colored parquet in his foyer, which led to thoughts of the night he and Cap and Johnny were attacked. Cap's blood pooling there...Johnny...Roy finding him... He shook his head of those thoughts and blew out a breath. He really did try to not let his thoughts run away with him, but sometimes...

As part of his discharge, the physical therapists had watched him walk down the hall, checking his gait and balance. He had minimal lingering muscle weakness and his balance was pretty good considering everything he'd been through; even his hair had almost grown back. He was getting impatient to return to the life he had before all hell broke loose.

Early detected Mike's anxiety and smiled, "Your blood pressure has stabilized nicely, Mike. I think everything's looking good," he said with a friendly pat to the Engineer's back. "How do you feel about getting out of here tomorrow?"

There really was nothing more Mike was looking forward to than just getting home and going back to work. "Rrreally?" Mike asked happily, I'd l-love that!" He paused a moment, "But, uh, c-can I ssstay alone? I don't wwwant to put my neigh-bors out any mmmore. My sis-ter will be coming to visit too prrretty soon, so..." His voice faded away. He fully expected Doctor Early to tell him "no" and that he'd have to have a "babysitter" again.

"I think you can do that, Mike. Really, I do believe another couple of weeks rest and a few more physical therapy sessions, and you'll be ready to go back to work. Now, of course you'll have to wait another few weeks before you can drive again, especially the engine. I think you should put a call in to the Chief to see if you'll need to retake the engine certification."

Mike took a deep breath as Doctor Early used the stethoscope once more. He looked toward the door of his room and concentrated on going home.

Doctor Early continued, "I think we'll send you home with a cane just to keep handy. Use it if you feel you need it, but you won't have to rely on it. Oh, and if you're wondering, I fully expect your speech to straighten out with a few sessions of speech therapy, but there shouldn't be any reason you can't go back to work even if it doesn't right itself immediately."

Mike heaved a sigh and smiled. "Th-thank you ssso much, D-Doctor Early. I rrreally needed to hear that."

"It is truly my pleasure, Mike," Doctor Early told him. "There is nothing more I enjoy than a real success story. I'll be back in to see you in the morning before you're discharged, but I think you can go ahead and arrange for a ride home."

Cap, meanwhile, was also chomping at the bit to go home. Doctor Ramsey, Cap's surgeon, was a tall, handsome black man with salt-and-pepper hair that wrapped around the sides of his head like a wreath of laurel leaves. He wasn't overly friendly, and Cap got the impression he was the type that watched his patients like a hawk. At least once, and sometimes twice a day, he'd been in to inspect Cap's wound. Each time, he'd "hmmm" as he poked and prodded, and Cap winced when a particularly tender spot was touched. Ramsey had said it was healing well, but still, he wanted Cap to wait another day or so before he could be discharged. It would be several days yet before the stitches would be removed, so no physical therapy until then.

"Um, Doctor Ramsey, how long do you think I'll be off work?" Cap asked with a smile that barely hid his frustration.

"Hmm," Doctor Ramsey said again, "Mr. Stanley, I would say..." he squinted and poked, "at least another six weeks, hmmm...maybe eight. I do like the looks of things, and I don't see any signs of infection, but neither do I like to take chances."

_"I already figured that one out,"_ Cap thought, flatly, "I see. Well, okay."

"Not to worry, Mr. Stanley, I've done many surgeries such as yours and have never had a problem yet. You'll be just fine; I'll be in later tonight to check on you again." He stood to his full six-foot, four-inch height. "Have a good day, Mr. Stanley."

Doctor Ramsey gave a slight wave as he left, but no smile. Cap wasn't sure if he felt reassured or intimidated by the man. He was so accustomed to being called "Captain" or "Cap" that being called "Mr. Stanley" just seemed odd. Still, Cap didn't feel right correcting the man. He sat back on the bed and waited for his wife to return.

Johnny awoke that morning to the sounds of breakfast being delivered. A nurse came in to deliver his pain meds and help him sit up in bed. Johnny groaned and gasped with each movement. "Here now," she tutted as she handed over the pills, "Take these before you eat." She watched to make sure Gage downed all the pills, checked his IV and bandages, then left him to eat. "Enjoy your breakfast!" she chirped.

Hospital food was never something to look forward to, and knowing he'd have to stick to soft items made him attempt to curl his swollen lip in disgust before even looking under the plate cover. Warily, he uncovered the plate and stared at what he'd been brought. As he suspected, there was beige, unflavored Cream-of-Wheat, applesauce and the standard fare: scrambled eggs. A cup of milk rounded out the uninspired meal. Johnny sighed and picked up the straw for the milk. _"At least I know the milk will taste good,"_ he thought.

A knock on his door made him look up. "Hi, Johnny," he heard. It was Joanne DeSoto.

Johnny tried his best to smile at his friend's wife, but only managed a slightly droopy half-grin. "Mornin' Jo! Nice to see you; Roy comin' too?"

"No, they're on shift this morning. Didn't you see the note we left last night?"

Johnny looked around and finally noticed the note sticking out from under the breakfast tray. "Nope, guess not- here it is." He read it. "Aw, man, I hate that I missed you yesterday. Guess I was pretty well out of it."

"Well, don't worry, Roy will be here as often as he can, I'm sure," she assured him. "Would you like to see what I brought for you?"

Gage's eyes brightened, "Is it food?" he asked hopefully.

Joanne laughed, "As a matter of fact, it is food. Roy always complains about the hospital food so I like to bring him some goodies from home. I thought maybe you'd like some too."

"Would I ever!" An attempted smile only resulted in a grimace and an "Ow!"

"Gracious, you poor thing! Let me get rid of this, um, 'stuff'," she said, referring to the breakfast tray. She scraped most of it into the toilet and flushed it away, leaving just enough on the plate to make it seem he had eaten some of it. Johnny looked wide-eyed at the woman, and thanked his lucky stars his partner's wife was so perfectly devious. Then he tucked into a soft, yet tasty breakfast of cinnamon oatmeal, banana pudding, and soft-boiled sweet potatoes drizzled with maple syrup. A thermos of orange juice was included and Johnny was a very happy man indeed.

"As soon as the swelling goes down and I get my tooth fixed, I can eat regular foods again," Gage told her between bites, "but you can make me this stuff anytime!"

Jo smiled and promised him she would do just that. "Have the doctors said when you can go home, John?"

Gage frowned a little, "Not really. Brackett still wants me off my knee and ankle for awhile yet. I 'spect it'll be a couple'a days yet. With the ribs broken, I'll prob'ly be off work for a few weeks anyhow."

Joanne couldn't completely hide her dismay at all the bruises showing. "Well," she snickered, "once you're home, you can expect a few more meals from Chez DeSoto. You skinny guys need all the help you can get!"

Johnny chuckled and looked at Joanne with appreciation. "This is amazing. Thanks, Jo...I mean it."

Roy and Dwyer had a grand total of nine runs that day, six of which brought them to Rampart long enough for DeSoto to pop in and check on his partner.

"Back again, eh?" Johnny laughed after the third time that morning. "Thinkin' I might run off if you don't watch me?"

"Nah, just making sure you haven't taken a pretty nurse into the janitor's closet for some 'physical therapy'," Roy shot back. "Say, uh, have you had a chance to see Mike at all?"

Gage shook his head, "Nope, this morning is the first time I've been able to sit up in bed. If Brackett approves, I can maybe get out in a wheelchair today. 'Dunno when I'll get to go home. Is Stoker okay? Nothin's happened has it?"

"No, he's doing good now, I think. It's just that, well, Chet and Marco said they spent the day at Stoker's yesterday cleaning everything up and...they can't find Mike's cat anywhere. I don't think they've told him yet, either."

"Aw, man, that cat was amazing, Roy, I'm tellin' you. Do ya' think he ran off with all the excitement that night? Man, Mike's gonna be real upset if Sir Pain doesn't come back," Johnny remarked.

Meanwhile, Sir Pain had awakened from his snooze in Mike's truck and leaped out the window to the garage floor, and wandered outside to the backyard. The sun was shining again and the previous night's rain had left a bit of water in a puddle on the concrete. After a few delicate laps, Sir Pain decided food was next. He leaped to the top of the fence and began to groom himself, when his ears caught the distinct sound of Mary's voice next door.

"Paaaaaaaaaiiiin! Heeeeeeere, kitty kitty! Oh, Sir Paaaaaain!" She was tapping the side of a can of cat food and wandering around the front yard. Gus stood nearby, wringing his hands. Mary had read him the riot act several times over for letting Sir Pain get outside last night and she was worried enough for the both of them. Her imagination was running away with her as she visualized all the things that could have happened to the friendly gray cat.

Sir Pain could detect the smell of the cat food and flicked his tongue. He was hungry, but was he THAT hungry? After twenty more minutes of calling and tapping on the can, Mary hung her head and decided Sir Pain wasn't coming back that morning. Sadly, she scooped the food onto a plate and left it on the porch steps before going back inside...just in case.

Sir Pain was a sneaky one when he needed to be and leaped from the top of the fence. He crept to the shrubs surrounding Mary and Gus's house and stayed there for a minute, trying to hear their voices. He kept close to the house and skulked behind the bushes and trees, making his way to the porch steps. He padded carefully to the plate and tentatively took a few bites, keeping his eyes alert. Mary had treated him well, but he had no intention of being kept inside that house again! A few more bites, and Sir Pain unwittingly let his guard down. He was about to lick the plate clean when an excited Mary threw open the front door.

"Sir Pain!" she screamed, "you came back!"

The startled cat hunched back, frozen for just a moment, staring at Mary with wide green eyes, then leaped out of the way just as Mary dove for him. She narrowly missed him as Sir Pain tore off through the yard and across the street, disappearing among the trees. He scrambled up a large oak and stayed there, gazing down at the road, and decided that, food or no food, he'd stay up there until Mary was gone.

The day was sunny and warm, and the residential street Mike lived on was relatively quiet. Sir Pain dozed in the branches, well-hidden from Mary's scanning eyes. He was content for now, but faced Mike's house, keeping alert for the arrival of his favorite human.

The next morning at seven, Mike was already up and putting the few personal things he had with him in a bag. Chet would be arriving soon, bringing clothes for Mike to wear home. Mike thought, happily. "As soon as Doctor Early gives the okay, I'm gone!"

Luckily for Mike, Doctor Early was in by eight-thirty, and by nine had given Mike one last examination, signed his discharge papers and offered a hearty handshake. "Mike, you're doing very well, I'm quite happy with how everything turned out. Now, go on home, and I'll see you in a week for a check-up." Mike wore a grateful smile and sat back to wait for Chet. Mike was thumbing through a "Sports Illustrated", when a thump against his door announced Johnny's arrival via wheelchair.

"Hey, Stoker! You aren't thinkin' about leaving without sayin' bye, are you?" Gage smiled. His leg was propped up in the footrests as a nurse wheeled him fully inside the room, stating she'd return in twenty minutes.

"Gage!" Mike greeted him with a smile. "Mmman, I'm glaaad to see y-you," he stuck out a hand to Johnny who took it in a firm grasp. "but y-you look like crap," he laughed.

"Yeah, I know. All black and purple- Chet says I look like giant raisin."

Mike grinned at first, then it faded, "Um, look, I'm rrreally s-sorry. Y-you going to be o-kay?"

Johnny snorted, "Yeah, eventually. Jerk broke a coupla' ribs and messed up my knee and ankle pretty good. Shoulder's pretty whacked too, but I'll be alright." His voice softened, "You, um,...know Jordan's dead, right?"

"Yeah, Doc Ear-Early told mmme. I, um, w-wasn't sure how I fffelt about that at first, y-you know? I didn't like th-thinking that he d-deser-ved it."

"I get ya'", Johnny replied. "But, honestly...I'm glad he's gone."

Chet walked in just then and stopped short when he saw his friends looking at each other in silence. He cleared his throat quietly, "Uh, guys? E-everything okay in here?"

Mike and Johnny looked up at Chet and grinned. Johnny winked at Mike as if to say, "follow my lead."

Johnny gasped, "Aw, Mike! We forgot to call Chet!"

"Call me? Why?" Chet asked, becoming concerned.

"We meant to tell you Chet, it's just that, Mike and I here, we've, well...we've kinda' BONDED from this experience, you know?" He reached over and took Mike's hand in his. Understanding the joke, Stoker smiled coyly at Johnny, then looked up at Chet's befuddled expression.

"Ch-chet, what G-Gage is trrrying to say is, well, we-we're mmmoving in to-gether."

Johnny perfected a shy blush and grasped Stoker's hand a little tighter. Stoker wrapped his arm around Johnny's shoulder. Chet stood there, mouth agape and eyes wide, struggling to think of SOMETHING to say.

"Yep. When I get outta' here, I'll be moving all my stuff to his place. But Chet, this doesn't change anything, you know," Johnny told him. "We can still be friends...even if Mike and I are..." he gazed up at Stoker, "so much more than friends now."

Chet finally sputtered, "Uh...friends? Y-Yeah, sure...uh, we can be, um, friends...um, does, does Cap know?"

"Oh, y-yes, Cap knows," Mike said, dreamily, "he's v-very sup-portive of us."

"He is?" Chet squeaked. "Um, I mean, th-that's good...yeah, good." He fidgeted and blushed and stumbled over his words until finally Mike couldn't resist adding the coup de grâce.

"Chet, thi-this just f-feels right. E-Ever since Mmmarco and I brroke up..."

"What?!" Chet squawked, "Marco? But he never said...I mean we just went to your place and he never...well, I mean, this just..." Chet couldn't seem to get a single coherent sentence to exit his mouth and John and Mike were nearly trembling with held-in laughter.

As Chet was sputtering, Dixie popped her head in the room. "Hi, fellas!" she greeted. "Mike, I wanted to say goodbye to you before you left. Doctor Early said you're free to go."

She took in the scene before her and raised an eyebrow. Clearly there was some sort of joke at Chet's expense going on, but she couldn't figure out what it was. Johnny winked at her and patted Mike's hand.

_"Ah!"_ Dixie thought with a smile. _"Oh, that's good! Cruel, but good."_

"Well, Chet, let's get Mike here ready to go!" Dixie announced. She assisted Stoker to his feet and handed him the bag from the bed. He signed all the right papers and plopped down in the hospital-required wheelchair Dixie had brought along.

Mike turned around toward Johnny and whispered, "Goodbye, honey. I'll see you soon."

Johnny gasped, trying desperately to keep from howling. "Bye, sweetie!" For extra good measure, he blew a kiss to Mike. Chet nearly fainted.

Mike held his possessions on his lap and lifted his feet into the rests. "Home, James!" he ordered Chet.

Smiling weakly, Chet told Gage and Dixie goodbye and pushed Stoker out to his van, muttering and shaking his head. As soon as the door closed behind them, Johnny and Dixie howled and laughed until Johnny couldn't stand it anymore. He wiped tears from his eyes. His ribs were killing him, but man, it was worth it.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N - Meeting Randy Mantooth was so fantastic. The play he was in was terrific and I was able to speak with him for awhile after the show. He was everything I expected; gracious, kind and funny. (And still very, very handsome.) What a wonderful weekend I had! I went with my best friend, but with any luck my husband and I will be going back to see it again. :)

**What a Pain! - Chapter Thirty**

Mike leaned his head back in the chair and let the morning sun shine on his face. His body relaxed with the warmth and he smiled. It felt so good to know he was going home again.

Chet helped Mike from the wheelchair into the van and Mike tossed a soda can away from the floor and slid into the seat. Chet hadn't said much, at least not out loud, ever since Mike and Johnny told him they were moving in together. Mike hid his smile wishing he knew what thoughts were racing around in Chet's head.

Chet closed Mike's door and returned the wheelchair to the hospital. While he walked, he told himself he was pretty sure the guys were just pulling one over on him, but...what if they weren't? Gage and Stoker looked and sounded pretty convincing, but what about Marco? And they said Cap was supportive?

"If this _is_ a joke and I say somethin' to Cap, he'll give me latrine duty until this time next year!" he mumbled. "I'm gonna have to talk to Marco first, that's all there is to it!"

Then Chet thought again, "But what the hell am I supposed to say? He'll think I'm nuts. This has _gotta_ be a joke, it's just _gotta_ be! Then again, I guess you would maybe form a bond with someone who's been through something that awful with you. I just never figured Stoker or Gage to like guys..." Chet's preconceived notions had taken quite a beating with this...whatever it was, and for once, he wasn't sure how to respond, and it irritated him to no end.

From the passenger side window of the van, Mike watched Chet returning and snickered when he saw Chet mumbling and making faces to himself. Although Chet didn't make Mike his target at the station too often, Stoker had to admit that watching Kelley squirm was pretty satisfying. Amusedly he thought, "I think I'll just take this up a notch."

"H-Hey, Chet," Mike asked, "c-could we run a fffew errands be-before you take mmme home?"

"Uh, yeah, sure Mike, where d'ya' wanna go?"

"W-Well, I nnneed a few grroceries; I do-don't have any i-idea what's l-left in my cab-in-ets," Mike mentioned, "aand I'd like t-to ssstop by the flor-ist too."

Chet gulped, "The florist?"

Mike looked away shyly, "Yeah, le-let's go to 'Roger's F-Flowers' on Sep-pul-veda."

"Uh...okay," Chet complied.

The grocery store was an easy enough task to manage with Mike needing only a few things. Caffeine was on his temporary list of no-nos though, and he frowned at the packages of decaf coffee and tea he purchased.

"No caffeine for you, eh Stoker?" Chet ribbed.

"Nope. At least not for a while anyway. Guess that's another thing I'll have to get used to."

Chet wondered what the other things were that Mike needed to adjust to, but felt maybe he'd ask about that a little later. They drove on in silence until they pulled up in front of the florist's. Mike looked over to Chet who was rubbing at a spot of something on the window.

"Hey, w-want to come in with mmme?" he asked. "I nnneed your o-pin-ion on something."

"Sure...uh, sure, Mike, no problem," Chet sputtered.

The bells on the door jingled as the guys walked in, and a girl wearing a hot pink mini-dress and white boots was sitting on a stool behind the counter. She chewed her pinkie nail absently and flipped through a magazine, tapping a pencil on the counter in time to a song on the radio behind her. Looking up and noticing the two customers, she smiled at them.

"Welcome to Roger's Flowers," she said automatically,"can I help you?"

Mike approached the counter, "I-I'd like some fl-flowers sent to Rrrampart Hospital, please."

When Chet heard that, he knew in his gut who they were for. _"I don't believe this...I just don't believe this..."_ he kept telling himself over and over.

The clerk took the information from Mike who then turned to Chet, "Hey, Chet, y-you think John-ny would like dais-ies or c-carn-nations better?" Mike was almost embarrassed by how much fun he was having milking this joke for all its worth.

Chet paled, "Uh...I dunno, I uh, never thought about it. Daisies, maybe, I guess?"

"D-Daisies it is, th-then!" Mike replied enthusiastically.

The clerk placed a small card in front of Mike. "And what would you like on the card, sir?"

Mike considered the sentiment thoughtfully,then made sure he said aloud, "Hmm, h-how about..."To John, mmmy hero, come h-home soon. Love, Mmmichael."

Chet paled and scootched over to look at a display..

The clerk looked up and smiled, "That's so nice," she told Mike, "I'll get these delivered today."

"Tha-That's great", Mike smiled, "thank you." He turned and saw Chet peering in the refrigerated case at the pre-made arrangements. "See s-something you l-like?"

"What? Oh, uh, no...uh, are you ready to go?"

Mike smirked, "Sure, p-pal, let's g-go."

With that, Stoker and a thoroughly befuddled Chet headed for Mike's house.

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

Once the laughter had died down, Dixie wheeled Johnny back to his own room and helped him back into his bed. Once he was settled, she gave him one of her lovely smiles and Johnny relaxed. Being bed-bound was a sure recipe for a grumpy paramedic and awkward though it was to maneuver from the bed to the wheelchair and back again, he was pleased to be up and around.

Gingerly, he lay back on the pillows and once he was comfortable, sighed and closed his eyes. Mike was going home today but that still left Captain Stanley to worry about.

"Dix?"

"Yes?"

"Cap's really gonna be okay, right?"

Johnny hadn't yet seen his Captain and although Roy told him Cap was doing alright, he wanted to hear it from someone in the know. "I mean, he _really_ is going to be okay...enough to come back to work?"

He opened his eyes when Dixie sat down on his bed and placed her hand on his. "I uh, know that injuries like his...well, sometimes you can't do the same stuff anymore, ya' know? Cap, he, well, all of us really, we need to be at our best for haulin' hose and climbin' ladders and...I-I know Cap doesn't rappel very often like Roy and me, but..."

Dixie's intuition showed her Johnny's real fears. Her features softened, "I understand, John, I do. Remember when Joe had his heart surgery?" Her voice wavered a bit with the memory, "That...fear of nothing being the same...all the 'what-ifs' and 'what-nows'...well, that kind of worry can really do something to you. But I promise you, Doctor Ramsey really is one of the best surgeons we could ask for and I'm sure your Captain will be out of here and home before you know it."

She gave his hand a pat then stood up. "Besides, he wouldn't know what to do without you guys and your jokes. You know, why don't you go visit him this afternoon after lunch? I'm sure he'll want to help throw a house-warming for you and Mike, right?"

Johnny snorted a laugh again. "Yeah, poor Chet. I think we freaked him out a little, huh?"

Dixie giggled a reply, "Yes, just a little. Get some rest, Johnny, I'm sure Dr. Brackett will be in to see you later."

"'K, I will," Johnny said, tiredly, "thanks, Dix."

"You bet."

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

Chet finally convinced his van to pull into Mike's driveway. Although it was a sure source of jokes at the station, and the beat-up white VW often coughed and sputtered, it was still Chet's pride and joy.

"Okay, my man, you are home!" Chet said happily as he ground the gears into park. There was no response from the passenger seat and Chet looked over to see Mike asleep with his head against the window.

Chet chuckled quietly, "Too pooped to party, I guess."

He got out and walked up to Mike's house. He fumbled a bit with the keys, then unlocked the door. He smiled with approval at the sparkling clean house and admired his and Marco's work for just a moment, then he went back to Mike's room and retrieved a blanket and pillow and placed them both on the sofa. He remembered seeing a set of TV trays in the closet, and set one of those up next to the sofa and put a couple of magazines there for easy reach. When everything was ready for Mike, Chet went back to the van to wake him.

"Hey, Mike, you're home, man. You gonna wake up?" Chet lightly tapped the engineer on the arm, "Mike? Hey Stoker, nap time's over."

Finally, Mike awoke with a start and sat up, looking around with bleary eyes.

"Huh? Chet...you, I mean...oh, hey! I'm home!" He shook himself awake and breathed in the fresh air wafting in the van. He closed his eyes and smiled as he enjoyed the scents of freshly cut grass and the blooms on the magnolia and orange trees.

Chet went around and opened Mike's door. "Yeah, man, you're home. C'mon, I'll help you in."

Slowly, but deliberately, Mike slid from the van seat and placed his feet on the concrete driveway. Each step was careful, but he was excited to go inside and see Sir Pain again. Man, how he missed that cat! He stepped inside the door and stopped short, standing there on the parquet floor.

Chet watched his friend as Mike stared into the living room, half-expecting to see the remnants of the night he was attacked. Instinctively, he looked down at his feet and was almost surprised there was no blood there on the tile. The curtains were pulled back and the windows opened, allowing the sunshine and fresh air inside. Not a trace of the terrifying night was to be seen and Mike realized that not finding what he expected to see was helping him put it all behind him.

"Chet?" Mike whispered, "Did y-you clean ev-ery-thing up?"

"Yeah, pal, me and Marco did it. That's uh, okay...isn't it?"

"Um, y-yeah...yeah, i-it's okay..." With the cuff of his shirt, Mike wiped embarrassedly at the moisture pooling in his eyes, "Thanks, mmman."

"Hey, it's cool, we just wanted to help out," Chet told him. A few more seconds had passed when Chet cleared his throat, "Uh, Stoker? Are you gonna go all the way in your house or just stand here in the entryway? I mean, I can move the couch over here if you want, but you're gonna have a hard time seein' the TV from here."

Mike laughed, "Al-right, smmartass, I was just th-thinking."

He walked into the kitchen and Chet returned to the van to get Mike's things. When Chet returned, he heard Mike walking from room to room, calling for Sir Pain.

_"Oh boy, this is gonna be hard,"_ Chet thought. "Say, uh, Stoker c'mere a minute willya'?"

Mike walked back in to the living room, "Wh-What do y-you need, Ch-Chet?"

"Well, I, uh, got this stuff all ready for ya'," he stalled, pointing to the blanket and pillow on the sofa, "um, where do you want me to put your duffel bag?"

"Uh, I g-guess the clothes c-can go in the l-laun-dry and all th-that other stuff c-can go in th-the kitch-en," Mike told him. "Chet, I-I can't fffind Sir P-Pain. I'm g-going to look out-side."

Chet dropped the duffel bag and followed Mike out through the patio doors in the kitchen to the backyard, "Mike? Um, about Sir Pain..."

"Wh-What about h-him, Chet?" Mike asked without turning around. Then he strolled toward the garden, "I b-bet that orn-ornery fur-ball is out here..."

Chet groaned inwardly and he placed a hand on Mike's shoulder to stop him, arguing with himself over what to tell him about Sir Pain. "Mike? Hey, hold on a second."

Unbeknownst to both men, Sir Pain had heard the van pull up earlier and was sitting on the tree branch, closely observing Mike's house. Through the open windows he had heard Mike's voice calling for him. His human was home! He could see Mike out in the backyard now and scrambled down the tree trunk and ran to the fence, leaping and clearing it like a thoroughbred at a steeplechase.

Finally, Mike stopped and turned around. "Wh-What, Chet? I-Is he out of f-food or some-thing?"

Chet swallowed and chewed his lip, "No, no, he's got plenty of food, it's just that, well, he..." Then, out of the corner of his eye, Chet saw the little gray lightning bolt running towards them. "he's right over there!" he yelped happily.

Mike turned in the direction Chet was pointing and laughed at the sight of Sir Pain galloping toward him. He squatted down on the grass and held his hands out and Sir Pain mewed and mreeped his happiness. He purred so loudly, Chet wondered if the neighbors could hear it. Mike picked up Sir Pain and the two knocked foreheads affectionately.

"Hi, p-pal," Mike murmured to Sir Pain, "I mmmissed you."

Chet stood to the side, grinning with happiness and relief, then turned to go back in the house. He emptied Mike's duffel bag and put everything where he thought Mike would want it. He put Mike's medication bottles in an empty bowl by the side of the sink and wrote down what Mike was supposed to take and when. By that time, Mike and Sir Pain had come back in and were sitting on the sofa together.

Chet felt his work there was done and came in to say goodbye. "Hey, Mike, I think things are all settled now, so I think I'll get going. You gonna be okay? You want me to get some food around for ya'?"

Mike grinned, "Ch-Chet, thanks f-for ev-ery-thing, mmman, I mean it. I'll be f-fine."

"Well, I uh, guess I'll be going then, um, hey, just have, uh, have Gage call me when he's gonna be released and I'll, uh, bring him home, I mean, uh, here, uh, home...aw, you know what I mean."

Mike had forgotten about the joke he and Johnny were playing on Chet and felt a small pang of guilt. He'd need to call Gage as soon as Chet left.

He stood to shake Chet's hand goodbye. "Sure th-thing, Chet, I-I'll tell h-him. Th-Thanks, again. We-We'll see you lat-er."

"Yeah, uh, later. See-ya, Stoker."

Mike walked into the kitchen and decided maybe a snack wouldn't be a bad idea after all. He poured a tall glass of milk, grabbed a couple of cookies and made a ham sandwich with extra ham...so he could share.


	31. Chapter 31

**What a Pain! Chapter Thirty-One**

Cap sat up in his bed. A frown creased his mouth and his thick brows were knitted in consternation. He was half watching "All My Children" on the television and half dozing. His wife sat nearby, working a crossword puzzle.

"How can people watch this stuff?" he grumbled at each commercial break. "She's sleeping with him but he loves someone else, her mother is really her twin sister, the neighbor is a spy who came back from the dead...sheesh. I'll never figure out how anyone can get so hooked on a TV show."

He was deeply bored with television and bored with reading and generally just bored with recovery. He sighed loudly which brought a glance up from his wife.

"Honey? Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I'm just...tired of this," he mumbled back to her. Pointing to the television he said, "Could you turn this stuff off, please? I'm pretty sure I'll never be able to follow this dreck anyhow."

She stood up and turned off the television as requested. "Would you like this crossword book?"

"No..." Cap growled.

"Honey, how about we go visit John? You haven't seen him yet and I'll bet he'd welcome the company as much as you'd like the chance to get out of this room for a while. Dr. Ramsey said as long as you're mindful of the IV, you can get around."

Cap's face brightened, "Ellie, that sounds like a good idea. Can you help me up and out?"

Ellie smiled, popped a pair of handmade slippers on over the socks on her husband's feet, and gave him a kiss on the nose. Gently, she took his good arm and helped him sit on the side of the bed, then eased him to a standing position. His other arm would remain in a sling for a while yet, just to keep it resting above the injury site. He grimaced a little as he took the first few steps, then smiled in satisfaction as he walked through the door as Ellie pulled the IV pole along side.  
His pain was minimal for the time being, and for that he was grateful. There had been moments when it was intense and he tried to ignore it, but Ellie had been on to him and reminded Hank to stop being a macho fireman and accept the pain relief.

Hank recalled the first time he realized how seriously he was hurt, several hours after his surgery while he was being moved to an ICU room. The pain then had been intense, but he did his best to deal with it. His pale face and moans at every movement however, had betrayed him. Hank smiled at the memory of Ellie shaking her finger at him when she realized his expression had been from trying to protect her from his pain.

"There's no way I'm going to put up with that nonsense" she had scolded him with a false fury. Then she had bent down to the bed and wrapped her arms around him, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, Hank... I love you so much."

Her words and loving touch had anchored him in his sea of pain and disorientation. Everything had been so foggy and confusing; he was surprised that he could remember what she wore that day, how she had her dark hair pulled back with a lavender ribbon, even the scent of her perfume. Ellie was his comfort and Hank promised her then he'd never again hide his pain from her. He smiled and gripped her hand a little tighter as they continued their stroll down the hall.

The halls were remarkably empty and quiet as Hank and Ellie made their way down to Johnny's room. The occasional nurse popped in and out of a room and a candy-striper brought a cart of books to an office. Other than those few, the couple was alone. They arrived at Johnny's room just as the florist was delivering the bouquet.

"Oh, Hank, look! Someone sent John some flowers; how nice," Ellie smiled. Eleanor Kathryn Stanley had a very protective nature, and securely under her wing were the men of Station 51. She had become quite close to Joanne DeSoto and perhaps when the other men married, she'd become friends with their wives as well. Until then, it pleased her to look after them from time to time. She loved that someone had thought to send get-well flowers to John.

Hank could hear Johnny laughing and gasping for air as the delivery girl left the room. He peeked around her shoulders as she passed and saw him sitting up with one arm wrapped around his midsection, and wiping tears from his face with the other. Ellie held the door for him as he walked in, a puzzled look on his face.

Gage looked up and grinned hugely at the sight of his Captain, even knowing he'd have a great deal of explaining to do. When he noticed Eleanor Stanley walk in behind Hank, Johnny gulped and tried to regain his composure, unsure how she would react to what he wanted to tell Hank. Gage sat up as much as he could with his back still hurting, and cleared his throat.

"Hey, Cap...Mrs. Stanley, nice to see you!" he greeted.

Cap smiled warmly, "John, looks like someone sent you something to brighten your day, eh? Those are some nice flowers."

"Hoo...I, uh, yeah, they're, uh, real nice, Cap," Johnny said, attempting nonchalance.

Ellie walked over, set her purse on the table and admired the blooms. "Such pretty daisies and lilacs!" she exclaimed, "and such a nice vase they're in!" She bent forward to sniff the flowers, then turned to Johnny. "Who are they from, John? I don't see a card."

Gage cleared his throat again nervously, "Oh, uh, they're from a friend. I, um, put the card away already, and uh..." He shifted uneasily and stuffed the card from Mike further under his butt. "Say, uh, Cap, h-how are YOU feelin' by now?" Johnny asked, nervously smiling and sliding his hand across his face.

John's unease and swift change of subjects did not go unnoticed by his Captain. Hank turned to his wife, "Ellie, is there any chance you could scare up a coupla' cookies or a piece of pie or something for Johnny here? I think he's looking a bit rawboned," he smiled.

"Oh, I imagine I can do that, I'll go see what I can find in the cafeteria." She helped Hank sit in the chair nearest Johnny, then retrieved her purse. She winked knowingly at her husband, "I'll be back in a bit."

Once the door closed behind Ellie, Cap blew out a breath and scrutinized Johnny who fidgeted and looked out the window, avoiding Cap's face.

"John? I, uh, kinda' get the feeling you're hiding something from me. Everything okay?"

Johnny's head pirouetted back to Cap, "Oh, uh, sure Cap, everything's good. It's ah, good...good," he fumbled and nodded. "Well, actually," he grinned, "things are probably pretty great at Mike's house right about now." He started to chuckle, then worked around to retrieve the card. "Ya' see, Cap, uh, Mike and I were talking a while ago...right before he was being released...and Chet walked in to get him, ya' see, so Stoker and I, we...we thought we would play a little joke on the phantom, ya' know, kinda' lighten things up a bit..."

Cap was amused by Gage's bumbling. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, "What sort of joke, John?"

Johnny grinned bigger still and started to laugh, "Well, we didn't plan on this, ya' see, it just sorta' happened on the spur of the moment. I guess I did kinda' start it, but Stoker really ran with it and..."

"What sort of joke, John?!" Cap asked a bit louder.

"Oh, uh, sorry Cap." Johnny just found the whole thing hilarious and nearly lost it a few times before he got around to explaining things, "Well, Cap, uh, Chet thinks Mike and I are in love and movin' in together!" he choked out. Gage pulled the card out, handed it to Cap and started laughing harder than he had been earlier.

Cap read the card and looked up wide-eyed at Johnny. "Stoker sent the flowers?" he asked in disbelief. "_Our_ Stoker?"

"Yep," Johnny gasped, "isn't it great? Chet about crapped himself!" Then he proceeded to tell Cap about how Hank was supposedly in full support and that Marco had once been the main man in Stoker's life.

Hank shook his head as he grinned, "And Chet believed all this nonsense?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he did; Stoker was pretty convincing, I'll say. Man, it was incredible. I wish I knew what all he told Chet on the ride home."

"Well, I don't know how you guys are going to handle this, but until I hear from you or Stoker...I, uh, I suppose I could play along," Cap snickered.

"No kiddin', Cap? Man, I sorta' figured you'd be upset." He wheezed out another small laugh, "Guess you really are supportive of us!"

That was all it took for Cap and Johnny to dissolve in laughter and that was how Eleanor Stanley found them when she returned with two pieces of apple pie. Her bewildered expression made Hank and Johnny laugh even more.

Hank wiped his eyes and began to stand; Ellie quickly stepped over to him. "Boys," she said with a wry expression, "I have no idea what's been the topic of your conversation while I was gone...but I'm very glad to see you both laughing. Now, you," she said, pointing to her husband, "stay put." She sat him back down in the chair and handed the pie over to Hank and John. "You guys need to eat a little something first."

Hank and Johnny nodded and happily dug into the pie. After the desert was eaten and a little more innocuous conversation, Hank grabbed the bars on Johnny's bed for assistance up. He leaned over and shook hands with his junior paramedic.

"Hey, we better get going, but I'm sure we'll talk later, John," he said with a grin. Then he waggled his eyebrows, "Oh, and ah, congratulations!"

Ellie looked startled and looked at Hank. "I assume you'll be filling me in on everything?"

Hank swallowed hard but kept a smirk on his face, "Oh, yes...yes of course, dear."

Johnny gave a small wave as Hank and Mrs. Stanley left his room then picked up the card from Mike once more. Delighted that Cap wasn't going to spoil the joke, he wondered if Stoker had managed to call Marco and fill him in. Channeling his inner Boris Badenov, Johnny twirled the ends of an imaginary mustache, then rubbed his hands together with glee. If it hadn't yet been spoiled, this ploy would go down in history as the best prank ever pulled on ol' Chester B!

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

As he drove away, Chet couldn't help but look back at Mike's house and shake his head in confusion. He thought he wanted to go talk to Marco and rehearsed what he was going to say.

He stared at the water-filled compass that was mounted on the dashboard, envisioning it as his friend. "Say, Marco," he practiced, "How well do you really know Stoker?" Shaking his head again, "No, that's not right...uh, Hey, Marc...have you and Mike ever...oh good lord, I can't say that!" Unable to decide what to say, he kept driving and working out the questions in his mind.

Trying again, he asked the Marcompass, "So, uh, Stoker says you guys used to be uh, really close, uh, tight, uh...crap. How am I ever gonna find out if they're pullin' one over on me?"

Without his even noticing, Chet had driven straight to Marco's house and pulled in the drive. Realizing what he had done, he sat there with the engine running, staring at the front door. Inside, Marco was on the phone...with Mike Stoker.  
Laughing loudly at what Stoker told him made Marco's mother run up to him. She peered suspiciously at him with dark eyes and began whispering her concerns in his ear. Marco tried to wave her away with limited success.

"Mamá, por favor! No pasa nada, estoy hablando con Mike. No, no, está bien, te lo prometo. Sí, estoy seguro de que le encantaría unas enchiladas, le diré ... " (Mama, please! It's okay, I'm talking to Mike. No, no, he's fine, I promise. Yes, I'm sure he'd love some enchiladas, I'll tell him...") Marco turned away and rolled his eyes. "Mike, look, I gotta go, but thanks for the information! I'm gonna love this! I'll talk to you later; if you're up to it, I'll bring over some lunch tomorrow. Yeah, okay I'll call you then. Bye." He hung up and turned around, reassuring his mama that Mike was doing really well. She was pleased with the news, then looked out the large living room window.

"Marco! ¡Tu amigo Chester se encuentra fuera de su camioneta. ¿Por qué está mirando a la casa? No sé qué pensar de él,Marco, es muy raro." ("Marco! Your friend Chester is outside in his van. Why is he staring at the house? I don't know what to think of him, Marco, he's very odd.")

Marco peeked around the drapes and saw Chet was indeed sitting there in the van, and it appeared he was having a conversation with himself. Marco coughed, shook himself, and eliminated all traces of laughter from his face as he walked outside to face the music. This was gonna be fun.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Sir Pain hopped up to the back of the sofa and waited patiently, standing guard as Mike sat for just a moment, surveying the living room. Lost in thought, Stoker's expression was blank, barely noticing when Sir Pain bumped his head on Mike's, demanding attention.

Mike closed his eyes lightly, took a deep breath, and let it out again slowly. Between visits from nurses and doctors and friends while he was in Rampart, it was much easier to keep his mind off the circumstances behind his injuries. Just as he had feared, once he was home to stay and he was alone, the flashbacks began. At one moment he could see the broken glass on the garage floor, then Captain Stanley trying to get Mike to his feet, and then in the next instant, he again heard the gunshot and saw Cap fall to the floor. His hands gripped the sofa cushions tightly as the images flooded his brain.

Like a flash bulb, the memories would burst forth and then disappear, melding into an altogether new image. He could see Johnny being dragged off by the drug-crazed man, Roy and his neighbor finding Mike and Cap on the floor, the blood, the sound of sirens and Sir Pain's screech...Mike shook his head, growled and forced the visions from his mind.

He tried to slow his rapid breathing. "I-I won't let th-this get to mmme." he said aloud. "Think of something else, Stoker!" A thin smile appeared as his eyes found the photos of Sir Pain that Johnny had taken and placed on the mantle. He stepped up to the fireplace and reached for his favorite. The cat was caught gazing through the glass of the patio doors one morning. Johnny had it printed in black and white and framed in black as well. It made a perfect addition to the other photos there of Mike's mom and sister, her family, and the single WWI Army photo of his dad.

He crouched down and rubbed the purring feline behind the ears. "B-Buddy, you are th-the one good th-thing that came out of a-all of th-this crap. Y-You're fammm-ily now."

Sir Pain seemed to agree and trotted after Mike as he headed back to the kitchen. Mike pulled a chair out from the table and brought it over to the phone, dialed a number and sat down as he listened. He waited for ten rings until finally he heard a sweet "hello" on the other end.

"Hi, Mmmom, it's Mmmichael."

It took some time for Mike to convince his mom that he really was doing much better. He smiled as she fretted over the phone and worried that she wouldn't be able to stay there to help him out. He promised he'd call his sister next and that he'd ask her to come help if he needed it. His mom seemed happy with that and Mike said goodbye and hung up slowly, standing there with his hand on the receiver for a few moments.

"Th-this house is too qu-quiet," Mike decided and turned the radio on. For a man so accustomed to a quiet house, this bothered him. _"Great,"_ he thought, "_nnnow I'm go-ing to be a-fraid to stay a-alone."_ He glanced at his reflection in the window above the sink and frowned. "Well, w-what are y-you go-ing to do nnnow?" he asked himself. Before he had a chance to leave the kitchen, the phone rang.

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

As they strolled slowly back to the hospital room, Cap told Ellie the whole sordid tale of how Johnny and Mike were tricking Chet into thinking they were in love and moving in together. Ellie alternately giggled and gasped in shock with the details, but knowing how Chet often made Johnny the station target, she figured 'boys would be boys' and told her husband that she'd like to be a part of the trickery.

"I could bring over a casserole to welcome the happy couple home once Johnny is released," she offered with a sly smile.

Hank grinned and turned to kiss his wife on the forehead. This woman knew how rowdy and occasionally raunchy a bunch of firemen could get and not only did she tolerate it with good humor, she enjoyed it. That only made him love her even more.

It was nearly dinner time when Hank returned, so Ellie helped him wash up and get back into bed. She raised the bed so he could sit up properly and rolled the table across his lap.

"El, you were right. Getting the heck outta' here for a bit was exactly what I needed. I feel much better. Might even want to go another round tonight."

"Well, you just eat something first and we'll see about that later," she said as she removed his slippers. She glanced back to her husband, "Um, Hank...If it's okay, I think I'll go on home for dinner tonight. The Goldstein's next door have kept the girls and Buttons each day and I'd like to be home to tuck them in tonight. Is it alright if we call to say goodnight?"

Hank motioned for Ellie to sit on the side of his bed. He took her hand, "Honey, you do whatever you need to do. Just kiss Kate and Laura for me tonight and tell them Daddy will be home soon."

Hank's eyes misted as he thought about his two young daughters. Yes, sometimes it was hard living in a houseful of girls, but they were the light of his life and he missed them terribly. He and Ellie had tried for four years to have a baby after they were first married, and just as they were about to give up, Ellie found she was pregnant with Laura. So thankful to have the one beautiful daughter, they were quite stunned when shortly after, Ellie became pregnant again. This time, their spunky Kate joined their family and Hank had another little lady to dote upon. The girls were now eight and nearly seven, and his girls, including Ellie, were his world.

"God, Ellie, I miss them so much. I can't wait to get back home," Hank whispered hoarsely.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," she whispered back, clutching his hand. "Don't worry, it won't be much longer, I'm sure."

With those words, a nurse entered the room. "Mr. Stanley, Dr. Ramsey has ordered your IVs removed. Can you lie back for just a moment for me?

Hank complied and the nurse swiftly accomplished her mission. She patted his shoulder, then collected the items she used. "This is a good thing, Mr. Stanley. It means you're one step closer to leaving us."

Ellie winked at her husband. "Told ya'," she smiled. "Now let's get you ready for dinner again."

One more kiss and Ellie was on her way home for the night. She was the only person for the ride down and stared at the floor of the elevator car, keeping silent. She was determined to stay upbeat and encouraging around her husband, but alone was an entirely different matter. Her feet felt leaden by the time she reached their station wagon in the parking lot. She took a moment to look up at the bright sky and grasped the car door quickly as the world tilted a bit. Ellie sat down on the car's front seat, rubbing her hands over her eyes. She was so tired; even driving home felt like a chore.

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

Marco's mind whirled with the ways he and Mike and Johnny would pull this off. An idea popped into his head and Marco went to the hall phone for a clandestine call to Mike. Smiling in satisfaction, he went outside and approached Chet's van. Marco glanced back at his house as he walked and saw the drapes whip closed as his mama hid herself from view. He chuckled; his mama loved his coworkers dearly, but Chester Kelley never failed to befuddle her.

Chet nearly jumped out of his seat when suddenly Marco's face appeared at the open window.

"Hiya Chet!" Marco greeted loudly.

"Yaaaah! Geez, Marc, give a guy a heart attack!"

"Hey, I'm sorry, man. Guess I figured if you're in my driveway, you kinda' wanted to see me."

Yeah...yeah, I do, I was just...thinkin'." Chet replied. "Uh, you wanna go get something to eat? I was going to make something at Mike's when I dropped him off, but he wasn't hungry. I was thinkin' we could hit that new Hawaiian taco joint, "Hulatino's" on Strathmore."

"Well, I told Mike I'd bring dinner over tonight; think he'll like Hawaiian tacos?"

"I don't know what he likes anymore," Chet mumbled, then looked at his friend, "I mean, sure, we can get stuff to go, I guess."

"What do you suppose they put in a Hawaiian taco- pineapple? I'll admit, I'm curious." Then Lopez quipped, "You never know how good something can be until you try...right?"

Chet looked away, "Y-yeah, sure. Look, can we just go already?"

Marco snorted a laugh as he went around to the other side of the van.

"Oh, hey, I forgot to tell you, the cat came back!" Chet said as Marco climbed in. "Mike was pretty happy to see the little guy again."

"Fantastic!" Marco added, "I bet he was."

The conversation died out rather quickly after that as Chet tried to broach the subject that was driving him mad. He wasn't a prude or homophobic, but geez, this was Marco, for cryin' out loud; his best friend! Shouldn't he have disclosed this little detail to Chet by now?

The two linesmen pulled up to "Hulatino's" and stared open-mouthed at the bright yellow building, which featured a huge mural of hula dancers dressed in grass skirts and sombreros. A loud Mariachi band stood on the sidewalk playing "Blue Hawaii".

"Ai-yi-yi," Marco said, stunned, "this is ridiculous!"

"Yeah...pretty weird," Chet agreed, "still wanna eat here?"

"Sure, let's give it a shot," Marco decided.

They walked up to the order window and perused the menu for a minute. Both men found the food combinations to be strange to say the least.

"My treat, Chet," Marco smiled and then told the girl at the counter, "Uh, I think we'll take three of the Guaca-Maui platters, six Tama-leis, and a large side of Guavacado salsa. Oh, and three large Cokes. To go."

The waitress came back with the drinks and as he unwrapped his straw, Marco asked, "Chet, what's up? Something bothering you, amigo?"

Looking very much like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Chet stammered, "Well, I..I don't...I mean, it's not something I'm upset about...okay, maybe I'm a little bugged, but not really..."

"C'mon Chet, spit it out."

Chet took in a huge breath and yelped, "WHY didn't you ever tell me you and Mike were a couple!?"

Stifling a laugh made Marco snort his cola and he choked a little. He spat out his drink into a napkin. This was better than he had expected, though his cheeks hurt from squashing the grin that threatened to escape.

Composing himself, he said, "Well, Chet, I wasn't hiding anything, I just didn't think it was important anymore. Apparently Michael said something to you." He looked down at the table and said quietly, "I suppose he also told you he's with Johnny, now."

Chet swallowed, "Uh...I, uh, he..."

"Well, look, amigo, it's nothing I'm upset about anymore. Michael and I parted company long ago. I'm...happy for them," Marco said with a faraway look in his eye. "Are you okay?"

Chet looked like he'd just swallowed thumbtacks and desperately wished he knew nothing at all. "I just didn't think...I mean, I'm okay with it, I guess...um, aw geez, where the hell is the food?"

The girl quickly returned with a large paper sack containing the food. She was Latina with beautiful dark eyes and long hair. Marco smiled and pressed the money into her hand. "Keep the change, bella dama," he winked.

Chet's radar went off. "Wait a second..." he thought.

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

Mike grinned as he hung up the phone. Marco was on his way there with dinner...and a very nervous Chet. As instructed, he called Johnny at the hospital and filled him in on Marco's plans: Mike needed to be on the phone with Johnny as Marco and Chet arrived with the food. Mike and Johnny made up an impromptu conversation to have for Chet to "accidentally" overhear. Mike wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

"Man, I wish I could be there in person instead of on the phone," Johnny told him. "This is going to be the final downfall of the Phantom! Who knew Marco was so devious! Incredible."

"Nnno kidding!" Mike replied. "I'll c-all you right b-back as soon as th-they get here."

Sir Pain sat nearby and when Mike stood up, he started curling himself around the man's feet and meowing for food.

"C'mon, p-pal, I'll f-feed you." He took a can of cat food from the cabinet and Sir Pain purred and mreeped around Mike's feet, eager for his dish to be filled. Mike turned his nose and grimaced at the smell of the brown, gravy-covered mush.

"Phew!I kn-know you're a car-ni-vore, d-dude, but how c-can you eat th-this junk?"

Sir Pain had no qualms with chowing down on the dinner Mike sat before him on the floor, gobbled it up like he hadn't been fed in days. Mike stuck his tongue out at the stinky meal and went to toss the can in the trash. He washed his hands at the sink and set out some napkins on the table, awaiting the food Marco said he was bringing.

The doorbell rang and Mike knew that was his cue. He picked up the phone, dialed Rampart and asked to be connected to Johnny's room.

A couple more dings from the doorbell and Mike yelled, "C-Come on in, I-I'm on the ph-phone!"

Chet and Marco came in and walked in the kitchen and waved to Mike who stood against the wall, the receiver on his shoulder. He pointed to the table and Marco and Chet began unpacking the food.

"Y-Yeah...I mmmiss you too. Uh-huh, y-yeah, I th-think that s-sounds like fun...sure, b-but only wh-when you're a-round...sure, y-you can!" Mike laughed loudly and Chet turned around. "H-Hey, th-the guys are h-here, I-I'll tell them y-you said hi...O-kay, take care, l-love. I-I'll see y-you soon. Bye."

Chet smiled, "Hey, how's your sister doin', Mike?"

Mike grinned back, "Th-that wa-wasn't Jeannie, Chet, th-that was Gage. He s-says 'hi'." He started to snoop through the bags, "Wh-what did you guys bring f-for din-ner?"

Chet's eyebrows crawled up into his curly hair and disappeared.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

As Marco went about unpacking and dishing out the food, Mike rummaged around in the cabinets for the tortilla chips he knew were in there somewhere. Sir Pain jumped to the cupboard and climbed on to Mike's shoulder, chirrup-ing in his ear. Mike reached around and patted Sir Pain, then gently gave the cat a shove, making him jump down.

Chet stood there, trying unsuccessfully to be as nonchalant as the other guys seemed to be. When he looked down, Sir Pain seemed as if he was grinning at him. Chet sighed. Even the cat was trying to get to him.

From the corner of his eye, Marco caught sight of Chet's fidgeting and smiled slyly. He wandered over to where Mike stood with his head buried in the back of the cabinet and gently placed his hand on Mike's shoulder.

"Mike, lunch is all set out. Are you ready to eat?"

Chet made a face when Mike turned around and beamed at Marco. Chet realized he was fighting a losing battle and decided this had gone on long enough. Marco was not giving up any details and Mike and Johnny seemed pretty cozy, so clearly, if they _were_ jacking him around, they weren't going to give an inch until he broke. He simply could not make himself fully believe this was happening or ever did happen and decided he was not the breaking kind of guy...much.

The three of them sat at the table chowing on the interesting food from Hulatino's, while Sir Pain made himself cozy on the tops of Mike's feet. Stoker reached down and patted the cat, then reached for another helping.

"So, uh, wh-what is this s-stuff, anyway?"

"Well, this is the Guaca-Maui platter and the stuff you're about to dip the tortilla chips in is Guavacado salsa. We also got a half-dozen of the Tama-leis. I don't have the slightest idea what's in any of them, but they sounded good," Marco told him. "Dig in."

Marco and Mike made light conversation, purposefully ignoring Chet's discomfort. They asked him the occasional question, but when most of them were answered with nothing more than a "Huh? Oh...yeah...what?" they figured it was more work than it was worth.

Chet, his brain speeding like a hamster on a wheel, was having a hard time keeping his mind on what they were saying as he tried to work out the details of his soon-to-be-executed plan.

He put down his spork and cleared his throat. "Guys, I'm thinkin' of having everybody over to my place once Gage and the Cap get home. Maybe throw some burgers and dogs on the grill, coupla' beers, maybe watch a game on the tube...whaddya' think?"

Marco swallowed the last bite of his Tama-lei and shot a withering glare to Chet. "Are you kidding, Kelley? In the four years we've worked together, you have hosted exactly _one_ party, and may I remind you how _that_ one ended? We were traumatized for weeks after your version of bean dip!" He wiped his chin, "Besides, nobody can watch a game on that dinky television of yours."

Chet looked hurt, then quickly recovered. "Look, I know I'm no 'hostess with the most-ess', but this time'll be different, I promise. I just bought a new TV and if you guys like this food, I'll get all the snacks from Hulatino's- my treat. How about it?"

Mike looked over to Marco. "H-He sounds des-perate, Marc." Turning toward Chet, he said, "If you put i-it like th-that," Mike said, still chewing, "I gue-guess I'm w-willing to t-try it again. Wh-What do you s-say, Mmmarco?"

Marco chewed thoughtfully and examined Chet for signs of an ulterior motive, but came up empty. "I dunno...maybe," he finally said.

Chet took that as a 'yes', "Awright! I'll start makin' plans and as soon as Cap and John come home, we'll have a party!"

Mike looked at Marco and shrugged. "Eh, o-okay, this st-stuff isn't s-so bad. I g-guess we could h-have this for par-ty food."

Chet looked away for a second and smirked to himself; this idea would work...he just knew it!

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

Johnny was due to be released at the end of the week and Cap would be going home a day or so after that. Time was of the essence for Chet to get his plan in order. Johnny and Mike continued calling each other, and it occurred to Chet that Mike seemed to be on the phone with him whenever Chet visited.

At work, Marco continued his act of nonchalance on the entire subject when it was brought up and claimed that he was not interested in talking about his and Mike's past. Roy, having been informed of the prank by Mike and Johnny both, made the wise decision of trying to ignore Chet's whispered information each time they were alone.

"I'm tellin' you, Roy, something's not right about this," Chet grumbled to the paramedic in the locker room. "Look, I'm not upset about Mike bein' gay or even Johnny bein' with him...I guess," Chet proclaimed with a hand splayed across his chest for emphasis. "I mean, my cousin Barry's been with a guy for six years now and I don't care! He's happy, his folks are okay with it, what's it to me, right? We all kinda wondered about him ever since he was little, anyway. I mean, he really liked to play dress up and never did like to be outside with the rest of us..."

"Chet?" Roy interrupted.

"Hmm?"

"Your point?" Roy asked.

"Oh, uh, my _point_, Roy, is that what upsets me is that Marco never _told_ me, I guess, I mean, assuming this is all true, of course."

Roy glanced up at Chet. "And why wouldn't it be true, Chet? Do you have reason to believe that it's not?"

"Dang it, Roy, don't get all investigator-y on me. I'm just sayin' that this whole thing came up awfully sudden and, well,_ if _it's true, then...then, _groovy,_ but if it's not...there _will _be revenge."

"Okay, I think that's my cue to leave," Roy said as he stood up from the bench. "If it were possible, Chet, I'd say you're going even crazier than usual. I'll see you in the kitchen."

Chet huffed angrily and sat down on the bench to tie his shoes and button his shirt. As Roy exited the locker room, he saw the last part of Marco skitter into the kitchen. Roy chuckled and shook his head. Eavesdropping! It was definitely time for coffee.

Chet finally strolled in and looked at Roy and Marco sitting there at the table, barely acknowledging him over the rims of their coffee mugs. Captain Raymond Smith, filling in for Cap, and Engineer Skip McCartney, taking Mike's place, sat at opposite ends of the sofa, reading parts of the morning paper, with a snoozing Henry between them.

Roy had noticed with amusement that each man on the replacement team resembled the man they were subbing for. Captain Smith had thick dark brows and a tendency to worry. Skip was fairly quiet and enjoyed basketball and crossword puzzles. It was especially funny to him that Brian Martin, the guy taking Johnny's spot on the crew, had a tendency to get in with just a few minutes to spare, much like his counterpart.

Captain Smith looked at his watch, "Roll call in ten, gentlemen. I believe that should give Martin enough time to get here and dressed and us time to enjoy another cup of coffee before we begin for the day."

He rose and walked over to the stove and poured out the last of the brew. There were two slices of cold toast still sitting in the toaster slots. "Alright, who was the mastermind who forgot about the toast?"

Chet snapped from his reverie, "Oh, uh, sorry, Cap. Guess that was me. I was gonna eat it after I got dressed, but I guess I got caught up talking with DeSoto. Sorry."

"Well, I'd say if it weren't for Henry here eating every bite of leftovers for us, I'd have to reprimand you for wasting edible resources." Captain Smith pointed a crispy piece of bread at Chet. "I guess ol' Henry here saved your hide, Kelley. I hope you're grateful."

Before Chet could respond, Brian Martin came racing in through the back door, skidded across the floor with a "Mornin' Cap, I'll be ready in five!" and blew into the locker room to change his clothes.

Roy smirked. At least Martin was better than Brice.

Skip McCartney got up to wash out his mug and jumped when the phone rang by his ear as he walked past.

"Station 51, McCartney speaking. Uh-huh, sure, I remember you! How's it going? Hey, no kiddin'? That's great to hear. Yeah, he's here, just a second." He covered the mouthpiece and yelled, "Kelley! Phone's for you!" Turning back, he continued, "You hang in there, Gage, we'll talk to you soon." He handed the receiver to Chet.

Johnny informed Chet that he could be released the next day and asked if Chet could pick him up when he got off shift.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so, I could do that. Don'tchya usually have Roy do that sort of thing, though?"

Caught off guard, Johnny told him, "Sure, but he's got a, uh, school thing with one of the kids, in the morning, I think. Besides, you offered, right? If you can't do it, I'll call Marco, it's no big deal."

Chet squirmed, "No, no, it's okay, I'm not busy. I'll be there around nine, is that early enough?"

"Perfect, thanks. See you then."

Chet hung up and turned around to see the rest of the crew, minus Martin, staring at him.

"Good news, Chet?" Roy inquired.

"Uh, yeah, Gage said he gets to come home tomorrow. I'm gonna go pick him up in the morning. You got a school thing in the morning, Roy?"

Roy gulped, "School thing?"

"Yeah, with one of the kids. Gage said you did and that's why he needed me to pick him up instead of you."

"Oh, _that_ school thing. Yeah...it's uh, with Christopher...a, uh, meeting...thing...at school," Roy sputtered.

Chet looked suspiciously with one eye squinted at Roy. "Uh-huh, okay. You go to that school thing. I'll let you know how everything goes."

Brian Martin finally came in and grabbed a mug from the table and went to the coffee pot. Disgusted that he missed all the coffee, he put his mug on the counter and started to make a new pot. He glanced at his watch in triumph. "A minute and a half to spare, Cap!"

Captain Smith grinned. "Good thing, Martin. I imagine you're getting a bad case of 'dishpan hands' after scrubbing the latrines all week. Now, grab a doughnut and all you guys get your butts out to the bay. It's time for roll call."

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E

The next morning, Roy took off for his "school thing" and Chet packed up his duffel bag and tossed it in the back of his VW bus. Marco stood beside the door.

"Going to go get Johnny now?" he asked.

"Yep. Why?"

"Nothin,' just wondering. Is he going to his place...or Michael's?" Marco inquired softly.

"Aw, man, Marco I don't know!" Chet growled. "Besides, I thought you didn't wanna talk about your past, anymore!"

"Who's talking about the past, Chet? I was just wondering where Johnny was going to go to recoup, that's all."

"Yeah...okay," Chet huffed. "I think I can manage by myself, Marco, but thanks anyway. I'll tell Gage about the party next weekend and see if he's up to it and I'll let you know."

"Sounds good. See you later, Amigo."

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

The entire trip to the hospital was a mixed bag of thoughts for Chet Kelley, and by the time he arrived at Rampart, he was ready to get the whole thing over with. Quietly, he made his way to Johnny's room and found Gage sitting in the chair, signing his release papers. A pretty nurse stood nearby, waiting for him to finish.

Johnny looked up and with his toothy grin, handed the pen and papers back to the nurse. "There ya' go, Nancy, all done! Can I go?"

"You bet, Johnny, you're all set. Now, you remember what Doctor Brackett told you about staying off your feet for a few days yet. We'll call you to set up some physical therapy sessions too." She smiled at him as she helped him into the waiting wheelchair. "Is this handsome guy your ride home?"

"Who, Kelley? Handsome? Well, uh, yeah," Johnny laughed, "He's my ride. Ready to go, Chet?"

Chet nodded, but his eyes ping-ponged between the nurse's face and Johnny's, looking for a sign that things were not how Johnny was portraying them. To Gage's credit, he neither flirted with nor smiled unnecessarily at Nancy, but simply thanked her and pointed to the door.

"Let's split, Kelley, I have recoupin' to do!"

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

As predicted, Johnny had Chet deliver him to Mike's house, and as they pulled up to the curb, Mike came outside to greet them.

"J-John!" Mike smiled, and leaned on the cane to offer his hand to Gage, "ssso glad you're h-here. Let mmme help y-you!"

"Naw, babe, you don't need me makin' you fall over. Chet here will help me inside. Won't ya' Kelley?"

"Hm? Oh, uh, yeah, yeah, I'll do that, Mike."

Chet took the crutches out from the back of the van and steadied Johnny as he tried to maneuver himself to the house. Mike followed behind with Johnny's duffel in his free hand. As they entered the house, Johnny suddenly froze.

"J-John-ny?" Mike asked.

"Gage? You goin' in?" Chet questioned him.

John stood still for a moment. It had been nearly three weeks since he'd been in Mike's house and he'd actually done a pretty good job of putting the worst of that night behind him. Until he returned to the place it happened. Chet nudged him again.

"Gage?"

"Uh, yeah...I'm goin', I'm goin'", he said suddenly. "I was just...thinking."

Mike came up behind and placed a hand on Johnny's shoulder. "I kn-know, pal. I know."

Johnny smiled grimly and proceeded into the house. As he walked across the living room floor, he looked around, not exactly sure of what he was looking for. Remnants? Blood marks? Another bad guy to pop out? He sat down in the arm-chair, Mike plopped down on the sofa and Chet claimed the recliner.

As the sound of human voices, Sir Pain trotted in and jumped into Johnny's lap. The cat squirmed his way up to Gage's shoulder and began rubbing his cheek on John's face, purring as loudly as he could manage.

"Hey! Here's my little pal!" John exclaimed. "Man, how you been doin'?" The cat licked Gage's nose in response.

Giving the two a few minutes of reunion time, Chet then said, "So Gage, Cap gets home tomorrow, I think. How about I have a little welcome-home party for you both next weekend?"

Johnny got back into character and stole a glance at Mike before answering. "Well, Chet, Mike and I were thinking about going to that new interior design store over on Clinton Avenue. We were talking the other day about how we'd like to redo some things here. Ya' know...memories and all."

Mike choked back a laugh and Chet spun around to look at him.

Kelley was incredulous. "Interior design? What the...? Gage! _You_ have never stepped foot inside a _paint_ store much less an interior _design_ store!" he squawked.

Johnny pouted, "Well, people can change. Can't they, Michael?"

Mike was biting his tongue and could only nod in agreement with a desperate smile pasted on his face.

Sir Pain hopped down and looked quizzically up at Mike. His favorite human was making strange sounds, yet didn't seem to be in any distress. He looked back at Johnny; nobody seemed alarmed. If it were possible, the cat might have shrugged in resignation before leaving the room.

Chet suddenly stood up. "I gotta' go take a leak," he said and stalked off to the bathroom.


	34. Chapter 34

A/N- Some chapters are more difficult to write than others and for some reason, this one was haaard! I had precious little time to work on it and every time I went back to it, it was like starting all over again. Giant chunks of text were changed, whole paragraphs were deleted and redwritten...argh, I need a nap!

**What a Pain! - Chapter Thirty-Four**

Chet's temporary absence from the living room gave Mike and Johnny just enough time to exhale and quietly release the laughter they held inside.

Gasping, Mike said, "J-Johnnny! In-ter-ior design? Good grief!"

Gage wiped a tear from his eye. "I know, it's a little over the top, but I just couldn't stop myself! Chet's probably in there checkin' his pants!"

"Hoo, b-boy, wh-when he fffinds out the t-truth, we're d-dead men!" Mike said, regaining his composure.

Johnny stifled another snicker, "Yeah, we are, but ya' gotta' admit, this is worth it."

They both looked up when they heard the bathroom doorknob rattle and swiftly changed the subject as Chet returned to the living room. Chet's mouth dropped open when he heard Johnny speaking.

"Well, anyway," Johnny fussed to Mike, "_I_ told Cap that once Christmas comes this year, you and I will host the station's party. We should have all the painting done and the new carpet by then. Won't it look fab-u-lous with the new tweed sofa?" He innocently looked up at Chet, who stood in the doorway. "Oh, hey, Kelley. We were just talking about the re-do Mike and I have planned."

Chet cleared his throat nervously, "Y-Yeah, okay, uh, look fellas, I'd better get going. I'm serious about next Saturday night though, okay? 6 pm sharp, the game starts at 6:30."

Mike stood to shake Chet's hand as Johnny grabbed his crutches and started to get up.

"Stay put, guys, I'll let myself out," Chet told them as he backed up toward the door. "I'll uh, call tomorrow and see if you need anything."

With that, the mustachioed Irishman practically ran down the sidewalk to his waiting van, mumbling and shaking his head the entire way. Mike wrapped an arm around Johnny's waist and gently eased him to his feet and the two of them stood watching Chet as he repeatedly tried the ignition before the van finally sputtered to life. This would surely be another nail in The Phantom's prank-playing coffin.

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

The next morning Ellie Stanley stood near the hospital bed packing up her husband's things. It had been too long since he'd been home; it was surreal to think he'd finally be back where he belonged. She smiled when he exited the restroom, dressed in jeans with his shirt unbuttoned, exposing the white t-shirt underneath. He was healing very well now, and the physical therapy sessions, though uncomfortable, had done wonders toward keeping him flexible. She blushed when she caught herself thinking about testing that flexibility.

Hank approached his wife and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Well, guess I'm ready to go, babe," he told her.

Ellie turned around and laid her head on her husband's chest.

"Hank, I just want to get you out of this place right now and home where you belong. The girls are over at the Goldstein's again, but Betty said she'd watch for our car and send them home as soon as we get there."

"I can't wait," he said, "I miss _all_ my girls."

Before they could leave, Doctor Ramsey made one last visit.

"Mr. Stanley," he said, extending his hand, "It's gratifying to see you on your way home. It's been a pleasure having you as my patient. " With a rare smile he added, "I wish you well in your recovery."

"Thank you, sir, I appreciate everything you've done for me," Stanley replied, with a firm handshake, "I trust you won't be offended if I say I hope I don't see you again in this manner."

Doctor Ramsey startled them with a laugh "Not at all, Mr. Stanley, not at all. Have a good day."

Stanley shook the doctor's hand again and as soon as Ramsey left, Dixie entered with a wheelchair and the final papers to sign.

"Miss McCall! How nice to see you again," Ellie greeted.

"Well, I wanted to make sure you were all set before you left us," she smiled, "I guess I'm a little partial to you folks."

Dixie held out the clipboard and had Hank sign his release papers, then patted the back of the wheelchair's seat. "Your chariot awaits, Captain! Let's get you out of here."

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

Chet headed for home and once he opened the door, he looked around and decided there was more work to do than he thought if there was to be a party at his place in a few days. He tossed his keys in the bowl by the back door and perused the work schedule which hung on the fridge.

"Hmmm...work, off, work, off, work, work at 36's..." Chet thumped a finger on each square and continued making mental notes. He finally decided that to get ready for this party, he needed to call in the cavalry...his mom.

Chet happened to call on a day his mother was actually home and in a relatively good mood. On any other given day, Nessa Kelley was a bundle of energy which she spent on dozens of volunteer activities, leaving her frazzled and slightly cranky. Chet and several of his siblings had made mention to their mother that perhaps she ought to cut a few things out, but Nessa wouldn't hear of it- taking care of people and things is what she did best. Today she was devoting her time to cleaning the silver, washing the draperies and wiping down the window blinds; a rather low-key day for her.

"Hi, Mam, it's Chester."

"Chester Brogan Kelley! Well, it's about time you called your old mam! What has this day brought you, son?"

"Well, I kinda' need your help, Mam," Chet began, "I'm having some friends over next weekend and I..."

Chet didn't get a chance to finish before Nessa snapped, "Speak up, Chester, don't mumble! I'll never be able to finish my cleaning if you don't tell me what you need! A Kelley man must be heard, you know!"

Chet rolled his eyes and patiently waited for his mother to end her most recent tirade.

"Mam, I just wondered if you'd help me tidy things up around here for a party I'm having next weekend. Three of the guys from the station will be home from the hospital and I told them I'd have them all over," Chet was finally able to say.

"Well, why on earth didn't you just say so, son? Let me check my dates."

Chet's mother finally decided that the following Thursday would be perfect for not only her but also Chet's aunts, Trudy and Nan, who would accompany her on her newest mission. Cleaning Chester's home wasn't for the faint-of-heart, Nessa declared, and she would need the reinforcements.

Chet did try to keep his place tidy, mostly for the unexpected visits from Mam and the resulting tongue-lashing he'd receive if it weren't in visitor-worthy condition. Once Mother Kelley heard the word "guests" in relation to Chet's abode, she knew there'd be much work to be done...too much for her youngest son to tackle alone.

With the cleaning crew arranged, Chet rooted around in his cabinets, found and opened a can of peaches and sat down at the table with a pad of paper and a pen. He stabbed a peach slice and swallowed it in one bite as he tapped the pen on the side of his head, thinking of things to get done before the party.

As if touched by a matchstick, Chet's eyes lit up with inspiration. "Yes! That's perfect!" he shouted. He went to the drawer by the phone and pulled out the brown leather book that held the numbers of friends and family. "P...Q...R...S! Samuelson! Ronnie Samuelson! Man, Ronnie, I hope you're still in the business," Chet mumbled as he dialed his friend's number. He tapped a foot impatiently while waiting for Ronnie to pick up. If this worked,…oh, the results would be incredible!

"Hello, Babes in Boy-land, Ronnie speakin'."

"Ronnie! Hey, it's your ol' pal Chet Kelley; I was hoping I'd get to talk to you."

"Good lord, Chester Kelley, the man with a thousand pranks and none of 'em worth a good damn. What are you doin' callin' me?"

"Well, hey, I have a question for you. Are you still arranging uh, you know, 'party guests'?" Chet asked.

"Oh, I suppose I could maybe do that for an old pal. What do you need, when and where, exactly?"

"I need three for next Saturday, my house," Chet explained with a smile beginning to form.

"Three? At your house? You old dog, I never figured you for the type," Ronnie said with a hearty laugh.

"Naw, man, not for me. It's for a couple of my friends who just got out of the hospital. I'm having a little 'welcome home' party for 'em."

Ronnie laughed loudly again, "Ha! Chet, that's a hell of a welcome home! What time do you need 'em there?"

"7pm sharp, and Ronnie, make 'em good ones, okay? This is really important," Chet added.

"For you, I'll send my best ones. I'll call you tomorrow and let you know what I can get arranged."

"Far-out, man! Thanks! I'll talk to you then."

Chet hung up and crossed a line through that part of his to-do list. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this right. He slurped down two more peach slices, tossed the can in the trash and grabbed his wallet and keys. Time to go buy that new television he promised the guys.

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

Once Chet was gone, Johnny groaned as he eased himself back down in the chair, propping his feet up on the ottoman. Mike sat down on the sofa once more and Sir Pain jumped up to join him there. He stroked the cat and stared off into space, thinking.

Johnny sighed, "Well. Um...now what? Chet's planning this big shindig for us and how, exactly, are we going to handle it?"

Mike inhaled deeply, "I don't rrreally know, I g-guess, but mmmaybe you sh-should stay here f-for a few d-days, a-any-way. I-If Chet comes b-back and y-you're nnnot here, th-that'll blow it f-for sure."

"Hmm," Johnny added, "maybe we didn't plan this out as well as we should have." He snorted a soft laugh and shook his head, "Chet just begs to be messed with some days and I guess I can't resist."

Later that evening, Mike and Johnny stood on either side of the kitchen sink, both snarling about trying to open their medication bottles. Twice, Gage had nearly flung his pain pills across the room and Stoker had actually cursed when he couldn't twist the cap back on a bottle.

"We're quite a pair," Johnny growled. "How do people who have to take this crap everyday do this?"

"B-Beats me," Mike snarled back as he put the third bottle back in the bowl by the sink. "I f-feel like a w-walk-ing ph-pharmmmacy!"

"I'm pooped, Stoker; I'm headin' to bed. Want me to take the couch or the spare room?"

"Y-You can have the e-extra rrroom," Mike told him, "it's p-prob-ably quieter."

"'K," John answered. He filled two ice bags to use that night and with Mike beside him to help, Gage slowly navigated the crutches down the hall and into the spare bedroom.

Once he was settled with his one ankle propped on a pillow and another pillow boosting his opposite knee, Gage placed the ice bags on each aching joint and pulled the blankets up around him. His back was hurting badly by then and he fell back into the three other pillows behind him and exhaled. This was the pits!

Sir Pain followed him in and leaped to the bed, making himself comfortable in the crook of Johnny's right arm. It didn't take long for both man and feline to fall asleep.

Mike went to his own room and stood for a while in the doorway. His hand slid around on the cold wall as he searched for the light switch. Finding it, he flipped on the light and stood staring at the bed for a minute. Then let his head flop back and he groaned softly. He hated the night-time now.

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

It took him nearly an hour, but Chet had finally hooked up his new television. It was much bigger than the old one and with the help of a new rotor box, he could get both VHF and UHF. He stood back and admired his handiwork.

"Pretty impressive, Kelley," he told himself. "Tomorrow at work I'll make sure everyone's all set for this weekend and then sit back and wait. This'll be phenomenal!"

He dusted his hands off on his pants and gathered his tools together and put them away in the garage. Mam and his aunts were coming in three days and Chet was already nervous about it. They would be there while he was at work and if there was anything out of place when they arrived, Mam would _find_ a place for it. That usually meant Chet would never see it again.

"I'm gonna head for the barn," Chet decided. "I'm beat."

E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!

Mike lay back in his bed and stared, wide-eyed, at the ceiling. Every night since he came home it was the same. The noises that had been a part of life ever since he moved in had become things to be afraid of. Whenever the refrigerator kicked in, he jumped, thinking a stranger was in the kitchen. He never left the windows open at night anymore, not even a crack, afraid that someone could get in. He had taken down the wind chimes he once had on the patio because their ringing might mask the sound of an intruder. His sleep, when he got any, was broken and fitful. He desperately longed for a night of peace.

A scant three hours later, Johnny was awakened by Sir Pain, head-butting him in the forehead and pawing at his face. Gage growled, "G'way, cat!" and swatted blindly at Sir Pain. The cat continued his pestering until Johnny had had enough. Stiffly, he sat up, intending to shove Sir Pain to the floor, when he heard a sound.

It wouldn't have been loud enough at first to awaken him, but now that he _was_ awake, he could hear it clearly. He just wasn't sure what it was. Sir Pain pawed at Johnny's arm.

"Awright, kitty, I know; I hear it," Johnny reassured Sir Pain. He removed the ice bags and eased himself upright, wincing with how stiff and sore everything was. He sat at the edge of the bed and listened. Still not sure of what it was, Johnny reached for his crutches so he could, wisely or not, investigate. Taking a deep breath, he leaned heavily on the crutches and launched himself off the bed. He stood, wobbling for a moment, then hobbled out the door.

As he made his way down the hall, Gage could hear the sounds much clearer and louder now, and his heart fell as he realized what it was.

Stoker was having a nightmare.


	35. Chapter 35

**What a Pain! - Chapter Thirty-Five**

Johnny hung his head and then thumped his way slowly to the bathroom. He snatched a paper cup from the dispenser by the sink and filled it with cold water. Then, realizing that unless he wanted to soak himself and/or the carpeting, carrying a cup of water while using crutches was going to be impossible. Sir Pain paced outside the bathroom door, meowing his displeasure with Johnny's inability to hurry.

Inspiration struck, and Johnny took an empty cup with him and returned to the spare bedroom. He snatched up one of the ice bags and carried it and the cup to Mike's room. Quietly, he opened Stoker's door and eased himself over to the side of the bed. Sir Pain leaped up to the bed and stood at the foot of it, keeping his eyes steeled on his favorite human.

The white metal blinds and heavy, navy blue drapes had been drawn closed and not an ounce of moonlight shone through. Johnny put the ice bag and cup on the side table and flicked the switch on the bedside lamp. Gently, he placed a warm hand on Mike's shoulder, careful not to startle him too much. Mike's expression was a twisted mix of terror and grief as he thrashed his arms and legs, fists gripping the blankets so tightly his hands shook.

"No...I...w-won't let..." he moaned, then cried out, "G-go a-way! No! H-help mmme!"

"Stoker? Hey, it's Gage. Take it easy, man; you're okay."

Mike continued his agonized rambling. "H-help me...p-please...help mmme..."

Johnny looked around the room as if he'd find reinforcements. The only bad dreams he'd ever dealt with before were the garden variety monster-in-my-room ones that Jenny or Chris would occasionally have when he babysat. Traumatic dreams were nothing he'd ever had to manage before and certainly not with an adult...or a friend.

"Mike? You're okay, man. Can you wake up for me?" He gently shook Mike's shoulder a little more and placed his other hand to steady Stoker's flailing arm.

Gasping, Mike finally opened his eyes and blinked owlishly at Gage. His face was pale and glistened with a cold sweat.

"G...age?" he panted, "Wha? I...uh..."

"It's okay, just slow down your breathing for me here, can ya'? Here...nice and slow...take it easy..."

Deftly, Johnny snatched Mike's wrist and checked a pulse, then gently placed a hand on Mike's stomach and counted breaths. "Good...slow it down..."

Mike obediently took deeper breaths, and attempted to regain some sense of awareness. His brows furrowed in confusion.

"J-John?"

"Shh, you're okay; I'm just checkin'." John let go of Mike's wrist and leaned back as far as he could. He sucked in a quick breath himself when his back protested the movement. "Pretty nasty dream, eh?" he asked, keeping his voice calm. "Have these often?"

Mike looked away, "On-ly when I s-sleep."

Johnny frowned. "You ever tell anyone about them?"

"N-no," Mike mumbled. "I w-was ho-ping they'd j-just...go away."

Johnny turned himself as gently as he could and unscrewed the cap on the ice bag. The ice had melted just enough and he poured out the cold water into the paper cup.

"Here," he offered, "take a couple swigs."

Mike sat up and took the cup in his still shaking hands. He felt like he'd been run through the wringer and held his head in one hand as he sipped. He turned to look at the bedside clock.

"Huh, t-two o'clock. Mmmade it a lit-tle longer this t-time, " he said, disgustedly.

"Yeah...well, look. Since we're up, how about we go in the living room and talk about this?" Gage suggested.

Mike sighed. "Nnno go-ing back to s-sleep for mmme anyway, so why n-not."

**E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!**

The next morning found Mike asleep on the sofa and John snoozing in the recliner. They had spent the rest of the night talking about everything that had happened before, during and after the break-in. Or rather, the normally reserved Mike Stoker, had done more talking in the four hours they spent in the living room than in the entire past four days.

Wisely, Johnny had offered no advice; he simply sat and listened. Mike alternately sat, stood and paced as he confessed how he was feeling useless as a firefighter, was nervous and jumpy, and that his patience with recovery had long since run out. He looked down at the floor and quietly admitted that having someone do those horrible things to him and his friends made him angry as hell.

"Yep," said Johnny, nodding.

"Yep?" Mike asked, "j-just 'yep'"?

"Well," Gage told him, "what do you want me to say? Everything you've said sounds perfectly normal to me. Once your mortality smacks you in the face like that, your whole world gets shook up." He paused and smiled grimly, "Unfortunately...I know what you're talking about. But..it'll get better in time as long as you don't bottle it up. And uh, ya' know...we're all gonna be here for you."

Stoker raised an eyebrow and studied Gage's face, realizing what little Johnny had said _did_ make sense.

"Huh," Mike said, slightly bewildered, "Th-thanks."

"No problem."

**E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!**

Saturday morning came and Roy had just returned from bringing both Mike and John to their appointments at Rampart. The guys sat on Mike's patio, sipping some iced tea before Roy went home. The subject of that night's party came up and Gage went off.

"Roy, I don't trust Kelley as far as I could throw him!" Johnny stated. "He's got somethin' up his sleeve, I just know it. He knows how that last party of his went and he's been bending over backwards to get this one right. It's unnatural...even for Chet."

"I-I'm starting to g-get a little nnnervous about this, you guys," Mike added. "I mmmight say some-thing to him...t-tell him mmmy blood p-pressure can't take any s-surprises."

"I dunno, he's really put a lot of effort into this," Roy told them. "Ya' know, he's even had his mom in to clean the place."

"Mother Kelley? Gawd, that place will be cleaner than a hotel at a maid's convention!" Johnny slapped a hand on his forehead then rubbed his face as the hand traveled down to his chin. He pointed an angry finger at Roy and Mike. "There's definitely something up. Chet gets bonkers when he thinks his mom is overdue for an inspection; there's no way he'd invite her in unless he had an ulterior motive!"

"Well, I guess we're just going to have to wait until tonight and find out," Roy surmised. "I'll be back to pick you guys up a little before six."

**E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!**

Later that afternoon, Chet was at the table, going over his plans, each item highlighted with a scribbled bullet-point dot. Exactly forty-five minutes before the guys got there, he'd go get the food from Hulatino's. He'd get all the snacks out on the bar and haul in the cooler from the garage to fill with the ice cubes he'd spent the last week making. He'd show them the new TV and turn on the game. All that would be left after that was to wait for the extra "party guests" from Ronnie to show.

"Come to think of it", Chet said aloud to the empty house, "Ronnie never told me who he was sending; just that it was three of his finest. Maybe I'd better call him again."

Ronnie Samuelson had his hand in the "entertainment business" for many years, but he wasn't exactly a fine upstanding citizen. Station 51 had responded to a small kitchen fire at Ronnie's club two years ago and Chet had become acquainted with Samuelson then. Kelley was assisting Ronnie with some O2, and grumbled that the paramedics got all the good stuff when Johnny and Roy were kept busy helping the beautiful "female escorts" who worked there.

Chet called three times, but when there was still no answer at Babes in Boyland. Tiny, niggling doubts began worming their way into Chet's brain and it was beginning to annoy him.

"Knock it off, Kelley, everything's fine," he growled to himself as he hung up. "I'll just try him again later."

He forced the stray thoughts from his head, grabbed his keys and went to fetch the food.

**E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!**

A few minutes before six, Roy arrived with John and Mike. Roy stood behind Johnny as he and his crutches tackled the front steps.

"Roy, this isn't *oof* right...*ugh*...Chet's doing too...*oof*...much," Johnny puffed and panted as he made his way up the four concrete steps.

Roy rolled his eyes, having heard this particular diatribe for the entire trip over. "Look, Junior, we're here now, so let's just go in and enjoy the game. I'll try to keep Chet from getting too out of hand."

"Y-Yeah, not possible, but thanks," Johnny grumbled. "Whoa!" he whooped and nearly fell backwards, but was caught and anchored by DeSoto's shoulder. He glanced back at his partner, "Sorry, pally."

"No sweat. You okay?"

"Yeah, let's get this over with."

Chet greeted his guests heartily- a little TOO heartily for Gage when Chet slapped him on the back, to which Johnny responded with a loud groan and a snarled "Che-et!"

Mike and Roy headed for the bar and the food. Roy loaded his plate with the mysterious Hulatino's food and piled another plate high for his partner, who was lowering himself into the nearest chair. With a mighty "whoof" of a sigh, Johnny decided he was comfortable there and wasn't going to move again, come hell or high water.

Chet busied himself setting up TV trays and grabbing drinks for everyone. The next doorbell ring brought Marco, and every few minutes, Chet's eyes would dart up to the fire-plug shaped clock on the wall. Johnny noticed, but kept his suspicions to himself.

The crew was duly impressed with Chet's new television and they all admitted that, odd or not, the food from Hulatino's was pretty good. Roy kept himself to one beer and Chet indulged in the first of only two. Mike and Johnny were forbidden until they were completely healed but Lopez had no such limitations on alcohol. Gage pouted and licked his lips as Marco happily poured out a frosty Stroh's into a tall glass and drank it with abandon.

"What a week! I'm going to really enjoy this!" Marco enthused.

The game had barely begun when the phone rang. It was Cap calling to say he wasn't able to make the party. His wife's best friend made a surprise visit from Arizona and was insisting she take them out to dinner. Chet grimaced. Things were starting to waver from the plan. First no answer from Ronnie and now Cap wasn't coming...Kelley was starting to second-guess things.

Like they had planned, Mike moved his chair closer to Johnny's and when Chet was nearby, he'd whisper to Gage and they'd giggle. Now and again, Gage would pat Mike's hand and smile sweetly. Marco went back to the bar and fetched a soda for Johnny and another beer for himself. Chet was beginning to sweat. Gage and Stoker weren't backing off the way he thought they would. Roy and Marco weren't acting as if anything was abnormal...maybe the party guests weren't such a good idea.

Lost in thought, Chet was startled when the doorbell rang. Too late.

"You expectin' someone else, Chet?" Johnny inquired.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I have some new neighbors and I thought maybe they'd wanna come over for the game. You guys don't mind, do you?"

Chet peeked through the filmy side curtains of the door and yelped when he saw the party guests Ronnie had sent. Three of them stood at the door; one was tapping an impatient foot, another was looking at the imitation-grass doormat and the third appeared to be appraising Chet's house with a critical eye. The doorbell rang again.

"Kelley, aren't you going to let your neighbors in?" Marco asked, taking a gulp from the beer in his glass.

"S-Sure, uh...just a sec..." Chet squeezed himself out of the barely opened door and stood there, facing the three guests.

"Hey baby, love the 'stache! You're cute!" the first one told him in a deeper voice than Chet expected.

"You Chet Kelley?" the second one asked. "Let us in, baby, we don't have all night!"

"Yeah," the third one said, "we can only stay an hour or so. Ronnie's got us back on stage at nine."

"S-stage?" Chet squeaked. He wasn't expecting the guests to be quite like..._this_ and looked around, hoping none of his real neighbors would see.

"Baby, don't you know who you have standing on your front porch?" the first one asked. "We are the LaBella Trio. Let us in and we'll introduce ourselves properly."

They moved Chet aside and sashayed inside the house. The crew looked up intending to greet the neighbors. When he saw them, Marco spewed his mouthful of beer into his lap. Roy stopped eating mid-nacho and sat there, mouth agape. Mike, who had been on his way back from the bathroom, stood in the doorway, bug-eyed and silent.

The first guest spoke, "Which one of you hot little numbers is Johnny Gage?"

"Uh...I...wha..." Johnny sputtered out.

"_I'm_ looking for Mikey Stoker," the second one added, waving one end of a long feather boa in Stoker's direction.

Stoker turned abruptly and headed back toward the bathroom.

"Not so fast, hot stuff," she said, taking Mike's arm in hers, "we got a date for a little while."

The third one made a beeline for Lopez.

"Ooh, I bet you're Marco; you are one hot tamale!" Marco was swiftly lassoed with a long strand of pearls and pulled closer.

The guests were all dressed in sequined formal-wear including high heels and long, manicured nails. Their perfectly coiffed hairdos were all piled up on the tops of their heads and they were rather aggressive...and suspiciously masculine.

The one with her arms wrapped around Johnny's shoulders leaned in and caressed his cheek.

"Oh, I really have a thing for firemen, Johnny Gage. My name is Lucy Morals; have you ever caught my act?"

"Uhh...act? Um, n-no..." spluttered the flustered firefighter.

The second one snuggled up to a still-standing Stoker. "Baby, I'm a dream come true for you. My name is Amanda Playwith. You're gonna wanna get to know _me_ better", she purred.

The third one sat in Marco's lap, pressed her cheek to his and told him her name was Anita Margarita. Lopez, stunned speechless, noticed a hint of five o'clock shadow on his leech, er, lady. Anita looked up, her eyes landing on a very red-faced Chet.

"Baby, you have a tape player? Here's our tunes." She got up and walked over to the stereo system near the bar and popped in an 8-track tape. "C'mon girls, let's show them what we've got!"

Lucy, Amanda and Anita stood shoulder to shoulder facing the north wall of Chet's living room. Music started to play and they turned around and began swaying and gyrating to "R-E-S-P-E-C-T".

Johnny sunk back into his chair, clawing at the armrests as if he could climb away from the spectacle before him. Marco gulped the rest of his beer and hurriedly poured another. Mike could feel the heat rising in his face; he looked around for Chet who appeared to be moving, inch by inch for the door. Just as Chet got within three feet of his escape, Roy, with arms folded across his chest, moved in between him and the exit.

The guests strutted around the small living room and sang to each of the guys in turn. Then, at the high point of the song and without warning, Anita, Amanda and Lucy tore their dresses off and kept dancing, now clad only in neon colored Speedos and bikini tops with their high heels and hairy chests!

It was more than Johnny could take.

"Sto-op! Stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP!" he yelled.

Lucy Morals, in silver heels, stomped over to the stereo and yanked the 8-track out.

"Baby, WHAT is your problem?" she/he demanded. "Ronnie said you asked us to be here. If that's not the case, then we're gonna split. We have a show later on anyway."

Amanda stood before Mike. "Yeah, hot stuff, what gives?"

Johnny sucked in a breath between his gritted teeth, "Chet, do _you_ know what they're talking about?"

Kelley turned around and faced his coworkers. "Uh, i-it, it wasn't...I mean, they weren't...they just..."

Hurriedly, he grabbed the dancers' gowns from the floor, and gave them back. "I, uh, how about you go on back to the theater. I'll, uh, I'll call Ronnie later, okay? Thanks, girls, um, guys, uh, I mean...aw, you'd better just go."

"Well!" Amanda Playwith huffed, "this is the last private gig_ I_ take. Ronnie can go suck a lemon!"

The three entertainers snatched their gowns from Chet and left, leaving a trail of glitter, feathers and sequins behind on the rug.

All that remained were four angry men...and Chet.


	36. Chapter 36

**What a Pain! - Chapter Thirty-Six**

Anita, Amanda and Lucy stormed out, slammed the door and tromped out to their waiting vehicle, not caring they were still in their Speedos, bikini tops and heels.

"Guys...I...really... that wasn't what was..."

"Kelley," Johnny interrupted with a quiet, snarling staccato, "I think you need to shut up."

"What was that *hic * all about anyway?" Marco inquired, flicking a stray sequin from his pant leg. He looked up and blinked hazily at his crew mates, "That one chick was hairrrry! Woo!"

Lopez had been so appalled by the behavior of the "bailarines", that he was eagerly polishing off his fourth beer in little more than an hour. "Out of hand" didn't begin to describe things.

"Chet?" Roy asked wearily, "Couldn't you just have had the party and left it at that?"

Kelley grimaced. "I...I just wanted you guys to knock off that phony lovey-dovey act you've been putting on. I thought maybe a couple'a hot chicks would make you drop your guard!"

Marco burped loudly. "Who says it's phony, Chet?"

"Marc! C'mon, don't gimme that, man; I know you're in on it too!"

Marco muffled another belch, then looked at his friend with a bemused expression on his face and shrugged a silent "Who? Me?"

Roy intervened again. "Okay, how about we all just head for home? Chet, nice try, but I think this is probably the last party you should ever try to throw. Ever."

He helped his grumbling partner from the chair and handed him the crutches. Johnny grabbed them from Roy and scowled at Chet, mumbling about "big, hairy hands" and "creepy guys dressin' up like chicks..."

When Chet tried to help, Roy put up a hand to stop him in his place. He was beginning to feel like a traffic cop.

"Ever. Chet."

Marco stood there, watching, teetering ever so slightly.

"Marco, give me your keys and go get in my truck," DeSoto told him.

"Y-yeah, okay, See ya' Chet ol' buddy", Marco jabbered. He turned his back to the others as he covertly piled a 'to-go' plate with snacks, "Yep, I'll see ya'"

Stoker sighed and shook his head. Leave it to Chet Kelley to make an evening more than memorable.

**E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!E!**

"Man, that Kelley has some nerve!" Johnny griped again, "As if we haven't been through enough in the past three weeks!" He attempted to pace, but "these infernal crutches" prevented it. He settled for standing beside the kitchen counter and thumping a fist in his hand.

Roy was exhausted. Before they left Chet's, it was all he could do to keep Johnny from making things worse. He went so far as to clamp his hand over his partner's mouth and pushing him as gently as he could out the door. Roy had taken an embarrassed Mike and a furious Johnny back to Stoker's place, and although Marco said he'd stay and help clean up, he'd clearly had a couple of beers too many. DeSoto delivered him into Mama Lopez's tender loving care.

Roy sat on a kitchen chair, his head down on his folded arms. Johnny finally sat down near him and expounded on the many ways he was going to exact revenge on Chet.

Sir Pain-in-the-Butt sat at Mike's feet and mewed his disapproval of the tension in the room, as Mike leaned against the kitchen counter and gazed through the window. He knew Gage's rant was going to take a while, so he made a few mental notes on how he wanted to fix up the back yard and his garden.

_"Maybe a couple of peach trees would be nice,"_ he mused.

Johnny went on and on until he noticed Roy. DeSoto's head was still down on the table and he was silent, yet his shoulders were shaking. Clearly something wasn't right. Johnny stopped mid-rant.

"Roy? What's wrong? Pally?"

The abrupt lull in Gage's prattling was enough to draw Mike's attention back to the scene at the kitchen table. A concerned Sir Pain leaped to the table top and began sniffing around Roy's head. Roy startled the cat when he popped his head up suddenly and Sir Pain sat back in alarm.

Tears were welled in Roy's eyes as he drew in an enormous breath. He was laughing! No, he was more than laughing, he was gasping and guffawing!

"Roy? Wha...what's so funny?"

"Hoo-hoo-hoo..._You_ are, Junior!" Roy sniffed and wiped a tear, "You're squawking around here like Chet kicked your dog or something and if you'd just stop yakking for a minute, you'd see that even if those dancing guys weren't what Chet intended...that was_ hilarious_!"

John sputtered, "What? Roy! You thought that was _funny_? A bunch'a guys dressed up like chicks and dancin' all over the place, those big ol' tree stumps of legs in those high heels...and...and wrappin' their arms around...aw, man...whose side are you on?" Gage shuddered at the memory.

Mike had turned back toward the sink window and started chuckling to himself. Johnny heard the muted snickering coming from the engineer and stood there, completely thunderstruck.

He snapped his jaws closed then huffed, "I...I don't believe you two!"

Mike looked at him, "Gage...r-really...think a-bout th-that scene. Big, b-beefy chicks in heels a-and S-Speedos? Ser-iously, wh-what is nnnot funny a-bout that?"

John turned around, prepared to stay indignant, when a tiny smile tugged at the side of his mouth. Marco's expression _had_ been pretty funny when Anita Margarita wrapped her pearls around Lopez's neck and began the strip-tease. And when Amanda Playwith ran her fingers through Mike's hair and left him looking like he'd been in a windstorm, Johnny had to admit that Stoker had looked pretty ridiculous. He chose to not think about the places Lucy Morals had put_ her_ hands.

His vexation diffused, John started to think about how Chet's party had started out as a great time and dissolved into the most ludicrous exhibition he'd ever seen.

"Well...at least Chet thinks he blew it..." Johnny consoled himself with a grin, "Man, that Lucy chick was just plain scary!" Then Gage thought some more, "Ya' know, I _have_ seen cross-dressers before and most of 'em are pretty convincing, but these dudes didn't even come close- did you see that one guy's hairy back?" He hung his head in defeat and began to snicker. "Okay," he said, "I guess it is pretty funny...when I think about it."

He thumped over to Stoker and poked him in the chest. "You know Chet planned all of that because he can't handle us pretending to be together. He came completely unhinged!"

Mike swatted Johnny's hand away. "Stop th-that, Gage. Yeah, o-kay...mmmaybe we did g-go a little too f-far."

Sir Pain was blithely licking his paws and washing his ears as he sat looking from one man to the other. When the doorbell rang, he jumped down and followed Stoker as he walked to the door and sneaked a peek at who was there. On the stoop was a sad-faced Chet Kelley, looking for all the world like a condemned man on the way to the gallows.

He sneaked back to the kitchen and announced in a loud whisper, "It's K-Kelley. Are we g-gonna tell him the t-truth?"

"Aw, jeez, Chet's here? Now he's gonna play the whole 'I didn't mean it' card and try to make us feel guilty." Johnny looked from Mike to Roy then sighed deeply, "A'right, let's see what he has to say." His skepticism toward Chet Kelley being apologetic for _anything_ was only outpaced by his own desire to see the man squirm.

"Chet." Mike acknowledged as he opened the door.

"Uh, hey, Stoker. Can I uh, can I come in?"

"Suit yourself."

Kelley walked in and reached down to pat Sir Pain. The cat sniffed Chet's hand, then cocked his head, let out a high-pitched little "mrrrrrp" and began sniffing at the man's shoes. He sat back, clearly annoyed by Chet's presence.

Chet squinted one eye and made a face as he watched Sir Pain size him up. "What's your cat's problem, Stoker. You get _him_ to be mad at me too?"

"H-Hey, Pain knows what he-he's do-ing. If he's mmmad at you, he-he's got a rrreason," Mike told him.

Roy and Johnny made their way into the living room. Roy stood there, trying desperately not to crack up, and Johnny balanced on his crutches, deliberately glaring at Chet.

"Guys, just listen to me...please? That _wasn't_ what I had planned, I swear! I...I just...I wanted to lighten things up, you know, shake you up a little. I just asked my friend Ronnie to send over some, uh, "party guests" for you guys."

"Go on," Gage prompted.

Chet exhaled, then sat meekly on Stoker's sofa, looking up at the guys with pleading eyes.

"Really, guys, I'm not kidding. Ronnie told me he'd send the best ones he had from the club, and..." Chet's voice trailed off as Mike Stoker moved in closer.

"W-Wait, wait, wait. Wh-Who is Ron-nie, Chet? Don't t-tell me those...th-those 'dan-cers' came from that j-jerk, Ronnie Samuel-son?"

"Well...yeah," Chet admitted. "He's the guy who has that strip club on Gardena, remember? We had a call there a couple years ago? With all those chicks in bikinis wandering around?" Chet desperately added another "Remember?"

"Come_ on,_ Chet," Mike laughed, "Y-you never ch-checked it out f-first? Th-that hasn't b-been a strip c-club since th-that f-fire. It w-was a p-pool hall for a-bout a year, th-then it was a hang-out f-for bookies. Chet, i-it's a gay nnnight-club, now!"

Chet winced and curled his upper lip. "B-But Ronnie never told me that! I swear! They were supposed to be three really hot babes! Really!"

Sir Pain jumped up beside Chet and inspected him again from head to toe, sniffing everything from Chet's hair to his fingernails to his kneecaps. The cat had his mouth slightly opened, his tail swished urgently and he quietly chirruped and "mrrffed" as he continued to scrutinize the contrite man. Mike smiled as he watched his pal study Chet.

Chet scowled suspiciously and pulled away from the cat, "Pa-ain! Beat it! Man, what's _with_ this cat?" He tried to push Sir Pain away, but the cat moved closer; Chet sighed loudly. "_Anyway, _what I wanted to say was...Stoker, Gage, if you guys are..." he swallowed hard, "uh, gonna be a couple, then...then it's okay with me."

Unable to keep it in any longer, Roy and Johnny both snorted a short laugh. Mike turned around, biting the inside of his cheeks and squeezing his eyes tightly to keep from breaking up. Try as he might, Gage couldn't contain the smile that broke out.

"Chet..."

Kelley, having been preoccupied with the nosy cat, hadn't seen the expressions on his friends' faces and interrupted, "No, just hear me out, Gage. I admit, I was really weirded out at first, but, well, after tonight, I just figured, que sera, sera, you know? I mean, you're my friends and all, and I guess if Cap's okay with it...well, I am too." He looked down to the floor, "That's all I came over here to say."

Johnny was becoming weary of standing in one spot and decided to sit down. "Roy, can you give me a hand here?" he asked, pointing to the recliner.

Roy held Johnny's forearms and eased Gage backwards into the chair. DeSoto remained standing as Mike sat down next to Chet. Stoker stole a glance at Johnny who rolled his eyes and nodded discretely. Mike scootched closer to Chet and slyly picked up Kelley's hand in his. Chet flinched slightly, but Stoker held on. Johnny and Roy looked away before they lost their self-control completely.

"Chet... J-Johnny and I h-have some-thing to tell y-you," Stoker said, sincerely.

"Uh...okay..."

Johnny dug his fingers into the armrests, anxious for Chet's reaction, but at that moment, Sir Pain sneezed at Chet and hopped off the sofa. He stalked to the front door, plopped down on the parquet floor and yowled loudly to be let out.

"Arrgh!" Johnny groaned and flopped his head on the back of the recliner. This was agonizing!

Annoyed at being interrupted by the cat, Chet snarled, "Stoker, I don't know why your cat hates me all of a sudden; I never did anything to _him_."

Roy motioned for Mike to keep sitting and went to the front door. He reached down to pat Sir Pain, then let the cat outside.

"I dunno, Ch-Chet," Mike said, "Pain see-eems to be on t-to you- I think he's knows y-you did some-thing bad to-day," he laughed.

Chet made a face. "Sure he does," he griped.

"Anyway," Stoker continued, "Wh-What I want-ed to tell y-you before, Chet, was, w-well..." Mike exaggeratedly batted his eyelashes at Kelley, "Chet, it's all b-bull-shit."

Chet was mystified for a moment. Then, looking between Mike, John and Roy, who all snorted and choked, realization hit.

"You...you...you guys...it was all...it _was_ a put-on?"

Mike nodded and grinned hugely. Roy was howling and Johnny practically sobbed with laughter.

Chet stood up; he looked from man to man. "I KNEW IT!" he yelled. "I _KNEW_ YOU GUYS WERE FAKIN' IT! I don't BELIEVE you! All that 'Johnny loves Mikey' crap and...and the moving in together...and telling me Cap was okay with all of it...it was ALL bull!"

This was the official Chet Kelley Train Wreck and any control that Roy still possessed was obliterated; he needed to sit down. Johnny held his stomach and laughed until he couldn't speak. Mike had draped himself over the arm of the sofa and was pounding his fist on its side. To them, every furious gasping squeak Chet uttered was funnier than the one before.

Chet realized he'd been had. They...Gage, Stoker, DeSoto, Lopez and even Captain Stanley had pulled something over on him and despite his initial second-guessing, in the end, he'd fallen for it, hook, line and sinker.

When the laughter died down a little, Chet looked at them. "Well...I guess you guys had your fun. I tried to lighten things up after all the crap you've been through and this is how you thank me," he pouted.

Johnny rolled his eyes, "Aw, come off it, Kelley! If you hadn't messed up that whole 'party guest' thing, _you _would be the one laughing at _us_ right now and you know it!"

Chet opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. A smile formed, "Yeah... okay. You're right, you got me, you win, I lose, game over, finis! I don't know how I'll be able to show my face around The Phantom again..."

"Chet," Johnny groaned, "shut up. You've been pulling crap on us, well, okay, mostly _me_, for years."

"Y-Yeah, Chet," Mike added, "I'd sssay you p-pretty much de-served this one."

Over the escalating voices, Roy called for a cease-fire. "Look, guys, how about we agree that Johnny and Mike pulled a good one over on The Phantom, and that it's all over now, eh? It's getting late and I gotta get up early tomorrow."

Chet paused, grinned and stuck out his hand to Gage, "Oh, okay. Truce?"

Gage raised an eyebrow suspiciously, but offered his hand back, "Yeah...okay. Truce."

"Mike?" Chet asked.

Mike laughed, "Sure, Kelley. Truce."

The four of them looked at each other rather uncomfortably for a few moments, then Roy said, "Okay. Now that that's done, I think I'm going to take off. It's been one for the record books, fellas."

Chet walked to the door, then looked back at Roy, Mike and Johnny. "I can't believe you got me; but... you got me. I"ll see ya' later." He strolled slowly down the sidewalk to his waiting van. Sir Pain-in-the-Butt sat on the concrete near his vehicle's door and looked up at Chet as he approached.

"Well, fuzz-face, you still mad at me?" Chet asked the feline.

Sir Pain stood and rubbed up against Chet's leg and began to purr. The man braced his hand on the open van window and stooped over to pat the little cat on the head.

"Hmm, guess you're over whatever had you all honked off, eh? You're a nice guy, Pain, I'd hate to see us at odds." He smiled and gently shooed the cat away, out of the path of his van, grinning as Sir Pain trotted happily up to Stoker's front door and sat down, meowing to be let in.

Chet kept his eyes on Sir Pain as he opened the door and slid inside. As he turned the key in the ignition, he wrinkled his nose at the smell of something.

"Yeeech," he griped, "what _is_ that?" He looked all around the seat, the dashboard, the van door and passenger seat and found nothing amiss. The scent was rather noxious and Chet was getting irritated by his inability to detect the source. Finally, he opened the door and slid from the vehicle. He searched the floor boards and even under his shoes. Suddenly, his eyes noticed something strange about the seat he had just vacated: a thin, brown line ran the length of the leather seat from the back of it all the way to the front. Dread filled Chet's brain as awareness came to him.

"Aw, no. No, no, no, no...NO!" he yelled. He bent down to examine the stain and knew immediately that it was the source of the awful smell.

"Pain!" He smacked a hand to his forehead and growled loudly as he rubbed the hand down his face. Sir Pain-in-the-Butt had left him a gift and he'd sat right in it!

Stoker opened the door to let Sir Pain in and watched Chet stomp around to the back of the van to root around for some shop rags. "Whatsa' matter, Chet?" Stoker called out.

"What's the matter? What's the matter? I'll show you what's the matter, Stoker! Your cat left me a little going-away present!" Chet turned around and showed off the long brown stripe that now ran the length of his backside.

Mike called Roy and Johnny to the door and the three men laughed long and loud as Chet wiped angrily at his pants. Stoker reached down to pick up his feline friend and held him to his chest.

"You are quite the pain-in-the-butt, aren't you, buddy", he told the cat affectionately. "Thanks, pal, I owe ya' one."

He turned to go inside and the others followed him. It really was all going to be okay.


End file.
